


Aspects Incarnate

by ice_wraith



Category: Star Stable Online
Genre: Blood and Violence, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-07-07 12:19:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15908151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_wraith/pseuds/ice_wraith
Summary: Magic stirs on the isle of Jorvik; an ancient goddess awakens.





	1. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drusi meets her Soul Steed.
> 
> (This serves as somewhat of a prologue to my overarching SSO fic. This chapter takes place approximately one year prior to the following chapters.)

Drusi made her way out to the Moorland paddocks, fetching Firewind from his pasture. Leading him back to the yard, she groomed him, tacked him up, and retrieved her helmet. She had been tasked with exercising him for the day -– apparently, his owner, Julie, couldn’t be arsed to work with her own horse. Not when she had her father’s money to spend at the mall, that was.

Firewind seemed to be in fine mettle. He was nearly prancing in place as Drusi led him out to the riding arena. She noticed another of the Bobcat girls -– Stephanie, she surmised -– already longeing a dark chestnut horse at one end of the arena. It was _“Silverglade's Spirit of Danger”_ , or just “Danger”, as he was known around the yard. Everyone at Moorland Stables knew him as _that one horse_ ; he was extremely talented, but unfortunately also a complete shithead. Drusi hadn’t been allowed to work with him yet. He was notoriously difficult to ride, but he could perform well if given strict directions. The lass could only guess that that was the reason Thomas Moorland bothered keeping the stallion around -– he placed well in competitions, if only under particular circumstances.

Drusi intended to longe Firewind at the opposite end of the arena, well out of Stephanie and Danger’s way. She noticed that the other girl was having trouble. Danger was tossing his head, nearly yanking the line out of the other girl’s hands. Steph had her heels dug into the dirt, fighting with him and trying to get him back into a reasonably working frame.

Drusi decided it wasn’t her problem if the other horse was acting up. She let herself and Firewind into the arena, closing the gate behind them. She retrieved the extra longe line and clipped it to the outside ring of Firewind’s bit before sending him out at a trot on a twenty metre circle. 

After a few minutes, Drusi paused and called Firewind back to her so she could change the clip on the bit and switch directions. As she did so, she realized the situation with Danger and Stephanie had escalated. The stallion was cantering sidelong towards their corner of the arena. His eyes were rolling, and he was nearly dragging poor Steph off her feet.

Drusi hesitated, leading Firewind towards the opposite rail and out of the way.

“Need any help over there?” She queried. Just barely, she heard Steph curse under her breath.

“Um, I don’t think you’re allow-” Stephanie started to answer, but the stallion cut her off with another hard tug on the line. Drusi looked on in a quiet sort of amusement; Steph was going to be feeling that one in her shoulders tomorrow. “You know what? Yeah. I’ll trade you. I’ll take Firewind, you deal with this. I don’t care anymore.”

Drusi left Firewind standing quietly in the opposing corner of the arena, and then sidled past Danger into the longeing circle with Steph. The exhausted, pink-clad blonde practically threw the longe line and whip at Drusi before storming away towards Julie’s much better behaved horse.

Once the line was securely in her grasp, Drusi snapped it to grab the stallion’s attention. Fortunately, Steph had set him up in a halter for longeing, which meant that she wouldn’t have to worry about changing the clip every time they switched directions.

Danger didn’t care for any kind of opposition; he laced his ears back and winged a cow-kick in Drusi’s direction.

“Hey! Knock that off!” Drusi snarled at him, flicking the whip after his hocks so that it popped audibly just behind him. The stallion started away from the sound, unaccustomed to being held accountable for his actions.

He was precisely the kind of horse that used to terrify Drusi as a little girl -– reactive, challenging of authority, and overall difficult. She knew better now, though. Years of lessons and training and stablework had given her a fairly solid backbone.

She feinted towards the stallion’s hindquarters, whip in hand, then backpedaled quickly without turning her back to him. Danger was caught off guard by this -– exactly as Drusi predicted he would be -– and he turned to face her, coming to a complete stop with his ears pricked forward.

The stallion snorted loudly, adrenaline quickening his breath.

Drusi waited. She wished she knew this horse’s tells. It would make this process go much more quickly, but she could improvise if need be. 

Danger grew bored of standing and waiting for Drusi to move, so he pinned his ears and tried to take off at a canter again. The girl followed, holding firm to the line and stalking after him in an arc like a predator on the hunt. She kept her eyes on his flank, and she held her whip pointed towards his haunch as well. The tension on the longe line combined with the pressure she was putting on the stallion’s hindquarters with her stare and her whip and her posture forced Danger into a tighter circle. She chased him until his hind legs crossed and he was forced to stop, facing her again. She immediately stood upright, turning the whip away and releasing the “pressure” she’d been keeping on his hind end.

The stallion snorted again, but this time, he lowered his head and stretched his muzzle towards Drusi.

Good.

The lass loosened her hold on the line a little.

“Are you ready to pay attention yet, or do we have to keep playing your stupid little games?” Her eyes met his. She grinned, keeping her stance solid and sure. “I can do this all day, pal. Try me.” The stallion’s posture relaxed, just slightly, and the hard line of his mouth softened. Perhaps he’d seen something in her gaze, or heard something in the tone of her voice, but the horse seemed to realize that Drusi was not one he should waste his time arguing with. 

Danger licked his lips, sighing.

“Nice job. Now, _trot_.” Drusi stepped back, using the angle of the whip to drive the horse out on the circle at a working trot. Danger obeyed, trotting along with a slight spring in his step.

She exercised him at a walk, trot, and canter in both directions for no more than ten minutes; if the horse was listening, she’d take what she could get and quit while she was ahead. She cooled Danger out at a walk before asking him to stop. 

Drusi approached the black chestnut stallion. He was properly tired now, and his neck was darkened with sweat. She reached out to pat him on the shoulder -– his hide was sleek and almost glassy. It seemed as though some great unnatural heat roiled just beneath the surface of his skin. The lass moved her hand to the horse’s neck, to his back, and to his legs. The odd heat was everywhere, causing her to worry he might be ill.

Puzzled, she turned back towards the stallion’s face. He was watching her, his eyes a deep firey amber. He blinked slowly. Something about his expression was distressingly familiar, though Drusi could not place how.

“Hey,” Stephanie called from across the arena. “I don’t know how you got him to behave, but good going. I’m done longeing Firewind, is it okay if I ride him now?”

Drusi had forgotten that Stephanie and Firewind and Moorland had even existed.

“Yep, you are good to go. By the way, is Danger sick? He feels warm to me.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steph replied, pulling down the stirrups on Firewind’s saddle before mounting up. “You can ask someone to check him over back at the yard if you’re worried.”

Drusi decided she would do just that. She led the stallion back to the yard, and thankfully, he did not put up any sort of a fuss. She passed her friend, Renata, just as she was about to return Danger to his stall. Ren was apparently on mucking duty that afternoon; the girl was just finishing up with shoveling fresh shavings into the last of the stripped boxes. The pale-haired girl appraised Drusi with a small amount of admiration as she led the stallion into his stall.

“They let you work with Danger? You’re brave.” Renata paused from her work, leaning on the handle of her shovel. If Drusi hadn’t known her better, she might have mistaken Ren’s tone as scoffing.

“Not exactly,” Drusi said, sliding the halter off over the stallion’s ears. “Steph was having trouble with him, so I offered to help. I made sure he listened to me.”

“I’ll say. Power to you. I don’t even like having to turn that one out, he tries to run me over every damn time.”

“He assumes he is in charge by default. You have to tell him otherwise.” Drusi looped the lead back around Danger’s neck, so he couldn’t move away from her in the stall. “Would you mind coming in here for a second? He feels off to me. He doesn’t seem lame, but his legs are hot, and that’s usually not a good sign.”

Ren’s brows knitted together in concern.

“That… doesn’t sound so great. I’ll come look him over. You have a good hold on him, right? I don’t want him trying to kick me, or anything.”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Drusi replied.

Renata let herself into Danger’s stall. The stallion shuffled a bit as she did so, but Drusi tightened her hold on the lead to remind him to stand still. Ren eyed the stallion warily, but reached down to feel his near-side foreleg for heat or swelling. When the pale-haired girl stood upright again, she opened her mouth as though to comment on something, but she stopped mid-breath and her expression blanched.

“What is the matter?” Drusi pressed. “Is something wrong?”

Ren seemed to fumble a bit, taking a moment to find her voice. She definently lived up to her reputation as one of the weirder girls in Moorland’s JEI summer program. Drusi was one of the few who had the patience to tolerate her quirks, and she had even stood up for the girl a few times when the Bobcats and their ilk had started gossiping about her.

“Sorry,” Renata said, finally. “He doesn’t seem warm or lame to me, but there is something definitely off about him. I’ll go get Jenna.” With that, she darted out of the stall, disappearing from view before Drusi could ask her what she meant.

As promised, Ren returned with Jenna moments later. Jenna was no vet, but she’d been working at the yard long enough to know the tells of equine illness or colic.

Danger’s legs were inspected, as well as his hooves, pulse rate, gut sounds, and temperature. Jenna found nothing unusual about him.

“This fellow seems perfectly all right to me,” Jenna told them. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. I’ll keep an eye on Danger tonight when I’m doing the last bit of chores around the yard.” She patted Drusi on the shoulder, thanking her again before departing.

Drusi pressed her hand to Danger’s shoulder again. The warmth was still there, as though some unbound energy was coiling within him. She left the stallion’s stall, where Renata was waiting for her.

“Am I losing my mind?” Drusi asked. “I saw his temperature reading for myself, and Jenna even showed me how to listen to his heartbeat and gut sounds with the stethoscope. Everything checked out as normal. But he still feels off to me if I lay hands on him at all.”

Renata had her arms crossed; her expression indicated she was very deeply lost in thought. Without looking Drusi in the eye, she responded.

“You aren’t losing your mind. Jenna may be right, though. Danger’s probably fine. However,” Ren paused, glancing up to look at her friend. “I think you should ask Thomas to assign him to you as your horse for the rest of the summer. I know that you and Whisper make a good team, but… I don’t know. Just ask. I think you would be good for him. I think he might be good for you, too.”

Drusi looked at her doubtfully, taken aback by Ren’s suggestion entirely. The pale-haired girl was usually cautious and more than a little bit timid. To tell Drusi to do something about her assigned horse -– in no uncertain terms, at that -– was uncharacteristically upfront for her.

“What makes you say that?”

Renata was quiet for several beats.

“I… I have a good feeling about it, I suppose. That’s all I can say.” She shrugged, her gray eyes distant.

Drusi sighed, sinking her shoulders a little. Quirky as she may be, Ren was still her friend, and there was little harm in trusting her on this.

“You are right, it probably won’t hurt to ask Thomas to make a slight change to the summer roster. Worst that can happen is that he says no, and even then, it’s only my pride that would be getting bruised.”

Ren nodded.

“Exactly. Well, I’ve got to go finish readying the boxes. I still have to make sure all the water buckets are topped off.” With that, Renata turned on her heel and disappeared into a stall at the far end of the yard.

Drusi turned back towards Danger’s stall. She leaned over the doorway, resting her elbows against the cracked and peeling paintwork on the frame. The stallion looked over at her, his eyes glinting from the shadows of the stall.

“What do you think about all of this, hm? Would you be willing to work with me as a team?”

Danger huffed in response, blowing dust particles from the fresh shavings all about the box.

“That’s what I thought. I guess we will just have to wait and see.” Drusi gave him one last look, rapping her fingers on the edge of his stall door twice in parting. “Have a good evening, fella.”

The lass made her way over to the main office at the Moorland yard, gathering her courage and bracing herself before opening the door. Thomas Moorland himself was seated at his desk, apparently sorting through a stack of old ribbons and show photographs. He looked up when he saw Drusi enter the room.

“Ah, hello there. Drusi, is it? Is something the matter?” Mr. Moorland’s eyes looked tiredly nostalgic–Drusi suddenly wondered if she’d been intruding upon his reminiscing over the photos.

“No, sir. Sorry, it’s just that I have a request.”

Thomas sat up a bit straighter, setting the photographs aside. Drusi couldn’t help but catch sight of one; it was a faded image of a smiling, dark-haired woman perched proudly on a white horse. There was a dusty blue ribbon pinned to the corner of the photo, identical to the one on the bridle of the horse in the picture.

“Right then. What can I help you with, Drusi?” If Thomas had noticed her glancing at the photographs, he was tactful enough not to call her on it.

Drusi’s mouth suddenly felt dry. She collected herself, mustering her courage.

“I want to ride Danger.”


	2. Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renata discovers a strange, riderless horse near a lake while investigating rural disappearances.
> 
> (This takes place approximately one year after the previous chapter.)

The isle of Jorvik was often a place of myth and mystery, but Renata was usually able to dismiss most tales as gossip or fabrication. Recently, however, she’d been hearing troubling stories of horses, riders, hikers, and pets going missing near a lake in the foothills. More curiously, the visions gifted to her by the Moon seemed hazy when she tried to scry for answers or leads on the missing. She was normally able to divine truth and meaning from said scrying, and the results were, more often than not, boringly mundane. The fact that she couldn’t make anything of these claims at all, one way or another, was enough to pique her interest. 

Perhaps it had been stupid of her to investigate this matter on her own -– on the other hand, she’d believed that her gifts of the Moon left her better equipped to deal with this than most.

Once reaching the mountains, she stopped the transit at a local stable, and rented out one of their most expensive horses. The gelding was tall, dark bay, and overall well-mannered. He was of Standardbred descent, sound of bone and well suited to covering long distances. The stable hands lent her a set of tack for him for an added fee. Renata thanked them, tipped them for their help, and then ignored their attempts at conversation as she fastened her gear to the saddlebags. She made a point not to tell anyone where she intended to go.

It was midmorning by the time she brought the bay out to the mounting block. She swung aboard, setting off at a working trot down the cobblestone road. 

About four hours later, she reached the trailhead leading down to the lake. Ren turned her horse off the road, weaving him between the trees and onto the soft dirt of the riding trail. She let him walk on a long rein, and his head bobbed in time with his stride as they moved further away from the roads.

A heavy fog set in as they neared the water’s edge; it was early afternoon, and the way along the road had been breezy, partly sunny, and pleasant. Perhaps it was just the proximity to the water, but Ren swore she could feel the sleeves of her jacket dampening with the sudden chill. She could just see the ripples of the lake in the space between the trees and undergrowth; as they continued, the trail opened up along the banks. If not for the obscuring haze, this particular stretch would have otherwise made for a fun place to gallop along the waterbank.

The girl was about to cue her mount up into an easy canter along the banks when something on the shore ahead caught her eye. 

It was a large figure, undoubtedly equine, washed up and lying prone while partially submerged. 

Ren felt her stomach churn -– she brought the bay to a halt and sat completely still for a moment to see if the downed horse would move to roll, or stand. 

It didn’t. 

She clucked her mount forward, gathering the reins and keeping him at a collected walk. As she neared, it became more and more obvious that the horse on the shore was dead. Ren supposed it was likely one of the victims of whatever had been causing rumors of people and animals going missing. She stopped her own horse again, looking around and noting that it was strange that no carrion birds were on the scene to scavenge a meal. 

Renata breathed deeply, steadying herself, and nudged her mount forward again tentatively. The bay had long since picked up on her unease, and shuffled about underneath himself. He refused to move ahead another step. 

Realizing this, Ren dismounted in a huff. She shivered -– the cloying mist enshrouding the water banks made her skin feel clammy. 

Water droplets clung to the bay’s whiskers. Ren didn’t want to leave him, but she also felt compelled to investigate the corpse of the poor creature more closely. She looped her mount’s reins about his neck a few times so he wouldn’t tangle his legs if he bolted. The horse was purportedly trained enough to ground tie, and Ren hoped that said training was thorough. She patted the horse, talking calmly and encouraging him to stay put, and then turned to face away from the trail. 

Waves from the murky lakewater lolled at the dead horse’s side, causing the cadaver to sway sickeningly with the movements. The fog was dense, but as Renata stepped slowly nearer, she saw that in life, the animal had been a beautiful pale gray. Its hide was now tinged an oddly pearlescent blue-green, likely from algae. Its sides were swollen with bloat -– its legs were locked outwards in rigor mortis. 

Ren stopped in her tracks. Given the symptoms of the deceased animal, it had to have been dead for at least a day. Yet, even with the added moisture and humidity, there didn’t seem to be any smell of rot or decay lingering in the air. She gave pause to wonder if that was why there weren’t any scavengers, insect swarms, or carrion birds present.

A vision flashed behind her eyes -– Renata watched herself approach the drowned gray, searching for clues or identifying features. She crouched over it, making as if to brush the clotted mane away from its face, and then it moved. It was impossibly fast; its legs kicked into motion and it thrashed to its feet. Its sides quickly flattened from the feigned bloat, and it lunged, opening its maw to puncture finger-length canines into the young woman’s shoulder. It dragged her into the muck of the lakebed before she could fight, or scream. Her bay took off back down the road, galloping until he would eventually appear riderless, lame, and drenched in lather back at his home stable.

The vision faded away. Ren stepped back, cautious and shaken.

This wasn’t simply a corpse left behind by the source of the disappearances -– this was the source itself. 

_Brook horse,_ Renata thought to herself. This was something fae, unnatural. Possibly a kelpie, and a hungry one, at that.

It was a clever beast, using the guise of a corpse to lure in scavenging animals or curious passerby like herself. That explained the lack of carrion birds -– they’d likely been eaten already, and the remaining survivors had since become savvy. She retreated back to the bay quickly, rummaging in her packs for the lunch she’d brought for herself. Her horse snorted and flinched as she unwrapped it with haste. It was just a bit of bread and cheese, an apple, and a halved turkey sandwich. Ren offered the apple to the Standardbred, holding it patiently as he chomped through it in spite of his bit. 

She left the bay to crunch on the remainder of the apple as she slowly approached the kelpie with the rest of her lunch. Fae and like beings were supposedly appeased by baked goods -– Ren wondered if her bread and sandwich would suffice for the time being.

It was a paltry offering, and possibly insulting, but it would have to do until she could come back to feed the creature something more sustainable. 

Renata stopped a fair distance away from the prone equine. She spoke softly to it, and then tossed her food towards it. The sandwich landed closest to the kelpie, hitting the fine gravel not a pace away from its head.

Nothing happened. Ren held stock still, afraid to move and risk agitating the beast. The mist itself seemed to still, hanging forebodingly over the surface of the lake. The girl was about to cut her losses and make back towards her mount, hoping she could hop aboard and flee before the kelpie decided to ditch its disguise and run her down.

The gray exhaled with a loud snort, flattening its sides back to normal and relaxing its legs from their locked pseudo-rigor. The sound made Ren jump, but she held her ground. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or bravery that kept her footing in place. At this point, it didn’t matter -– the kelpie would be able to outrun her at this distance anyway.

Rolling upright, the brook horse side-eyed Renata through its tangled mane. Its eyes were clouded and milky looking, and its glare was intelligent and cutting. 

“That’s all the food I have on me right now. If you let me go, I will bring you back something more tomorrow. You have my word.” Ren tried justifying herself, hoping the kelpie would understand her.

It seemed to comprehend her meaning, somehow. The gray dipped its head in somewhat of a nod, and then snatched the sandwich off the bank with slight disdain. Shambling to its feet, the kelpie shook out its mane, sending water droplets scattering and eerily dissipating the surrounding fog. It devoured the bread and cheese immediately after. 

Ren merely watched the creature, silvery and ethereal now that it wasn’t feigning being a corpse, and felt humbling awe for the first time since discovering her gift of visions.

Once it finished eating the meager food offering, the kelpie stared level into Renata’s eyes and whinnied. The sound was shrill, melodious, and uncanny, like some otherwordly approximation of a woman singing. 

The hairs on Ren’s neck bristled. Before she could say anything in response, the kelpie turned, whirling on its haunches and bounding back into the waters of the lake until its ears disappeared beneath the surface.

The water stilled, and it was gone.

The girl looked back at her mount; the bay was jigging in place, neck arched and plainly upset. She made her way back over to him, patting him and straightening out his reins. She praised him, grateful that instinct hadn’t gotten the better of him. He could have fled, abandoning her to the kelpie, but he had stayed put. The stable hands had been right when they’d said he ground tied well.

“Come on, you’ve been a good boy,” Renata said, turning the left stirrup outwards and hopping up into the saddle. “Let’s head back to your stable. I hope you guys have a butcher in town; we’ll need a good cut of meat if we want to pacify our new friend, here.”

The bay immediately turned back up the trail, clearly wanting to put distance between himself and the water. Ren gave him rein, letting him trot back to the main road. Many questions turned themselves over in her mind, and she found herself bizarrely eager to return to the banks of the lake with a proper meal for the kelpie by tomorrow.


	3. Offering

Renata’s eyes opened, and she bolted awake long before her alarm was due to sound. Her room at the inn was still dark with the bluish cast of pre-dawn. She checked the time on her phone -– it was half till five in the morning. Squinting around from the contrast of her phone’s screen, she cast the blankets off herself and padded out of bed.

Her body was sore and her sleep had been restless; her dreams had been stirred with images of fanged horses and shape-changing beings made of water. The events of the previous day came back to her in a rush -– she hurried to dress and ready herself so she could stop by the local butcher as soon as the doors opened.

Ren purchased a hearty breakfast on her way out of the inn and wolfed it down with haste. She shouldered her belongings, ever thankful that she always traveled light, and made for the town’s butcher.

The shop was blessedly open as early as five in the summer, likely so customers could stop by in the mornings to avoid the heat of the day.

She was the only visitor in the shop at this hour. The man working the counter gave her an odd look when she ordered an entire rack of prime rib to herself, but fulfilled her order nonetheless. Ren left the shop about seven kilograms heavier with meat, albeit with sufficiently fewer shillings.

Afterwards, she lugged her haul over to the stables to pick out another mount to rent. She was greeted by one of the same barn hands from the previous day. The tired-eyed lass took one look at the packs Ren was carrying and suggested she ride one of their North Swedish horses.

Renata took the girl’s advice -– she would need a sturdier mount to pack everything out for the day. She stood around in the center aisleway, recognizing the bay Standardbred from yesterday and giving his nose a pat as she waited for the girl to fetch one of the North Swedes. The lass eventually brought forth a stout looking mare with a hide darker than a moonless night, and Renata voiced her approval.

Today, Ren allowed the stable hand to help her tack up and secure her packs. She made light conversation this time, but still remained vague about exactly where she was headed. She also remembered to request a spare halter, stating that she’d like to tie the horse to graze since she planned to eat lunch while out on the trail. The girl nodded, lending her a halter and lead and layering it on under the bridle as she tacked the mare up.

Thankfully, it was still early morning when Ren led the mare out to the blocks. This horse, while sturdier, would travel at a slower pace, and Renata wanted to reach the kelpie’s lake well before dark. She mounted up, double checking the security of her saddlebags, and then cued the mare into a steady walk.

They left town just as the sun was beginning to rise; the morning chill stung at Renata’s skin, and steam curled from the mare’s muzzle.

The roads seemed longer at the Swedish mare’s slower pace, but the horse was dependable and well-trained, so Ren felt she couldn’t complain. Still, they reached the trailhead to the lake at roughly the same time as the day prior.

The girl opted to leave her horse tethered somewhere well away from the banks this time, rather than riding all the way down to the lakeside as she’d done with the bay. She found a small meadow, just off the trail and a decent distance uphill from the water itself. Dismounting, Ren removed the dark mare’s bridle, noting that the halter underneath was one of the cleverly designed breakaway types.

_Good_ , she thought. That meant the mare could pull free to escape if needed, and Ren figured such a contingency should be planned for in case the kelpie rejected her offering.

The mare reached her head down to graze almost immediately, stubbornly chomping up mouthfuls of grass at a time. Ren simply looped the lead around the branches of a nearby shrub -– the mare seemed content to snack here, and she wasn’t too terribly worried about her wandering far from such an abundant source of food.

Fetching the packaged rack of meat from its secured spot behind the saddle, Ren started off down the trail alone towards the lake.

The cut had been sealed securely in typical fashion to prevent blood from leaking, and then bundled neatly in a thick burlap sack. Ren removed it, discarding the packaging into the burlap and noting that this was a particularly bloody cut of meat. Some of it stained the sleeves of her jacket; she cringed, knowing that the stains would be difficult to explain to the people back in town when she returned.

_If_ she ever returned, that was.

Renata pondered her morbid fascination with the occult as she made her way down to the water. It had predated her discovering the gift of visions, although it had certainly grown stronger since. Last Hallow’s Eve, she had camped out with a group of girls her age in the Hollow Woods trying to spot a glimpse of the infamous Galloper Thompson. All of the others had been there on a dare; they chattered nervously amongst each other, and some were plainly skeptical. Ren had been there of her own volition, and eventually, she broke away from the rest to hide among the twisted roots of a great tree. While she actually did encounter the headless specter on his hellish mount, she kept the sighting to herself, since she knew no one would ever believe her.

It was likely that nobody would believe her if she tried to explain the source of these local disappearances, as well. She was more than content to keep the secret of the kelpie all to herself.

She looked up from her thoughts, having reached the area where the trail met the banks of the lake. The smothering fog that had permeated the vicinity yesterday was long gone, and visibility was blessedly clear. This immediately made Renata feel more at ease.

She left the burlap bag and the discarded wrappings near the edge of the trail. Scanning the shoreline, she didn’t immediately spot the kelpie, but when she did, she stopped walking. Her feet felt leaden; she was unable to move.

The fae was grazing, her face nearly submerged to her eyes, on some kind of aquatic plant a fair distance away from where Ren had seen her last. Sunlight shone on the silver of her hide; it seemed to ripple like the water itself when the kelpie moved.

Ren looked down at the bloody hunk of meat in her arms and willed herself to walk forward again. This was surely enough of an offering to pacify the brook horse, right?

Even though she was yet a long distance away, the kelpie spotted Renata making towards the water, and her head went up. Her ears pricked, and she whinnied again -– it was still that same high, haunting key, and it made Ren shudder.

The fae leapt into a gallop. Despite being almost to her knee in water, she seemed to move through it effortlessly, slicing through it like a sportfish on the open sea. She crossed a vast amount of space in eerily little time; Ren had barely made it five paces, and the kelpie was already almost to her. She trotted up out of the water with springy steps, stopping just before the girl and staring at her, head canted, with a pale bluish eye.

Renata offered the ribs to her. Her hands shook violently, and inwardly, she prayed to Aideen that her fear would not offend the brook mare.

The kelpie stretched her neck out, just barely touching her muzzle to the butchered meat.

Renata held perfectly still for a long moment, smelling blood and hearing the ebb of the lake and watching water seep from the kelpie’s mane in endless rivulets.

The girl considered placing the meat on the ground -– her arms were growing tired from carrying the weight, after all -– but then, the brook horse lunged, and Renata barely stifled a scream.


	4. Shadow

The kelpie mare snapped at the rack of ribs, opening her mouth to reveal actual canines in the place of wolf teeth. It was just as Renata had seen in her vision -– she knew, then, that the mare would have killed her yesterday had she not foreseen it and made an offering instead.

The girl’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest when the mare’s head darted forward; the apprehension followed by sudden movement had caused her to flinch visibly.

The brook horse did not seem to mind. She lifted the entire slab of meat with her teeth and pranced away, dropping it on the gravel nearby before she set into devouring it properly.

Ren watched the mare as she tore meat and sinew off the bone with ravenous enthusiasm. She saw the hollowness of the fae’s flanks and understood -– the creature needed meat to survive, and she was only barely getting enough to scrape by.

She pondered this; the reports of missing people and animals had been a fairly recent happening. There was a good chance that the kelpie was originally from somewhere else, and that external causes had forced her into this lake in the lowlands to hunt. Given all the recent Pandoric activity, along with environmental changes thanks to GED’s meddling, Ren could hardly blame the mare for having to move closer to people out of necessity.

She ventured a question.

“Kelpie, mare, you aren’t from here, are you? Or did you always live here, in this lake?”

At Renata’s words, the gray looked up from her meal. She fixed the girl with another of her icy stares -– and yet, there was a twinge of sorrow behind her eyes this time. The mare turned her muzzle pointedly northward, pricking her ears as she did so, and seemed to direct Ren’s gaze up towards the northern range. The headwaters of the lake welled forth among those peaks; the mare seemed to be implying that she’d originated from one of those remote streams much farther out.

The kelpie turned back to Ren, making eye contact again, and flattened her ears. Even as foreign and equine as she was, Ren could still read the pained expression on the mare’s face. _Humans did this to me_ , she seemed to be saying.

Her ears flopped forward again, and she resumed picking bites off of the chunk of meat.

“Humans chased you out of your home, huh?” Renata ventured. “So you eat them. Out of revenge.”

The mare swished her tail in complacent affirmation. Ren sighed.

“Fair enough. We should probably work on that, though.” 

Once the hunk of ribs was picked down to the bone, the mare submerged her muzzle in the shallows and resumed grazing on water reeds. The girl continued to watch her quietly; she wondered what kind of life the brook horse had left behind when she fled to the lowlands. Were there more of her kind, still hiding in undiscovered wilderness?

It was well into the afternoon, by then. Renata dusted herself off, frowning at the bloodstains on her jacket, and decided she should head back soon if she wanted to return before nightfall. She paced back over to the discarded burlap, peeling off her jacket and tossing it in the bag. She could wash it later, she figured -– it would definitely be easier to hide it for now. The locals would be suspicious if she wandered back into town at dusk with sleeves covered in red stains.

Ren heard a sound behind her. It was soft -– a barely audible scuff of hoof against fine gravel –- but it was enough to make her turn.

The kelpie mare stood just behind her, eerie and silent as death. Renata nearly jumped out of her skin for what felt like the tenth time that day.

“Damn it! P-please don’t sneak up on me like that. Aideen’s sake.” The girl cursed under her breath, knowing the mare could hear her anyway. She looked back down at the bag containing her jacket and the remnants of the meat wrappings. “There’s no more left in here. I’m sorry.”

The fae seemed to understand this already. Her pale eyes were fixed on Renata, not the bag.

“What? You going to eat me?” Ren didn’t know what else she wanted.

Stretching her neck down, the gray sneezed into the gravel dismissively. The girl realized that, if the kelpie had wanted to eat her, she’d have done so already. After all, she was able to walk right up behind her without notice.

“You want me to bring you more food? Ugh, I’m going to have to start mucking stalls for pay again in order to afford that. I can be back tomorrow, around the same time. After that, I don’t know. This can’t be an every-day trip.”

Renata waited for the mare to take the hint and return to the water, but the brook horse stood still. Shrugging, the girl turned back up the trail, figuring she should check on the Swedish mare she rode in on.

When she reached the meadow where the rental mare was grazing, Ren hesitated. The stout black draft looked up in alarm as soon as the girl set foot in the grass. Puzzled, she turned to look behind her again, knowing that the draft didn’t startle easily.

Sure enough, the kelpie stood a few paces away, having followed the young woman up the trail.

Ren sighed.

“You can’t eat the horse I rode in on, either.”

Again, the gray seemed to have acknowledged this. She tilted her head to gaze at Ren with one eye as if waiting for her to realize something.

Exasperated and more than a little unnerved, Renata turned back towards the draft, packing up the burlap bag and re-bridling her. The kelpie would just have to wait until the next day for more food. She hopped back into the saddle, kicking the rental horse up into a canter and brushing past the kelpie.

The pair of them loped back up the trail and onto the road. As expected, Ren heard the light scrape of unshod hooves against the paved stone behind them. She kept her mare in a canter, sat deep, and turned to glance over her shoulder.

The brook horse was keeping pace with them effortlessly. When the girl turned to look at her, she lengthened her stride, running abreast of the draft mare.

Ren felt her face pale; it seemed she wasn’t going to be able to shake her new friend. She had no idea what else the fae wanted from her. Perhaps she was just lonely, but even still, that was probably wishful thinking.

The kelpie stayed apace with them for the entire remainder of the journey. When they neared civilization, the silver mare seemed to hesitate.

“I doubt you can come back into town with me, mare. It’s full of people. You know, like the ones that ruined your home?”

Renata’s words seemed to strike a nerve, and the fae shivered. Like a startled foal, she shouldered up against the draft mount, crossing her neck over withers and pressing her head to Ren’s torso. The draft mare tried to sidle away, but her rider calmed her, understanding the kelpie all at once.

The girl dropped the reins and hugged the gray’s face. The poor thing was frightened -– wherever she’d come from before, she’d probably been part of a herd, and now she was slowly starving, alone, in unfamiliar lands.

It was a very mortal fear to have, Ren surmised, but it appeared the fae was not completely exempt from the hard rules of this reality. She was a magical, unusual specimen, but she was not invincible.

The kelpie relaxed a little after a moment, and the girl continued patting her muzzle reassuringly.

“I won’t let you die. It’ll be all right, mare. But you probably should lie low for a bit, at least until I figure out how to pass you off as my horse. Otherwise, it’ll just look like I stole you, or something.”

The fae’s eyes softened, and she stepped away from the draft mare again.

Renata looked around, trying to get her bearings on her surroundings.

“Let’s see… If the town is that way, then I think if you follow the road south for a bit and turn off onto the deer trail with all the ferns, it’ll take you to a secluded little stream. Just try to stay off the roads and out of view, okay? I’ll come find you there tomorrow.”

The brook horse trembled, her shoulders twitching, but she seemed to understand. She gave Ren one final, doleful look, and then shuffled off into the forest at a steady trot.

The draft mount sighed and lowered her head once the kelpie was out of sight -– it was clear that she understood the fae was a predator to be feared. Renata patted her mane.

“I know, I know. It’s been a long day, but you’re safe now. Come on. Back into town we go,” she said, nudging the draft into a trot.

When Ren dismounted back at the stable block, she loosened the Swedish mare’s girth, and was met at the barn doors by the same lass from earlier that morning. The barn hand took the mare’s reins from Renata, noting that the draft seemed ill at ease.

“Did you run into any trouble out there? This gal hardly ever spooks at anything,” she said, patting the mare’s dark muzzle.

“She must’ve nosed wolves, I think.” The lie came easily to Ren. “I could have sworn I saw some tracks on the way back, near the road that heads south.”

“Really? We rarely have problems with wolves this close to town.” The stable girl frowned. She ran the stirrups up on the saddle, and began helping untack.

“Yes. The prints looked too big to belong to foxes, or even dogs. You should probably tell other riders to avoid that area for a bit.” Ren waited until the stable hand was occupied with unbridling the mare, and then she quickly pulled the burlap containing her bloodied jacket out of the saddlebags as discretely as possible. She shuffled the mess into her backpack, making as if she were digging around for loose shillings.

By the time the stable hand had turned back towards her, Renata had fetched a small amount as a tip.

“Here,” Ren said, offering the girl the money. “Thanks for the help.”

The barn girl smiled at her, her expression tired but genuine.

“Aw, thank you!” She accepted the tip, and Ren bid her a hasty but polite farewell before scurrying out of the stable yard.

The young woman headed away towards the inn for the evening. Her stomach hungered for a decent meal, and she knew she’d have to figure out how to wash her jacket without suspicion, but overall she considered the day a success.

Renata hesitated, turning to look back towards the city gates. The sun was setting, darkening the treeline in a way that seemed almost ominous. She nodded in the direction of the wilderness; under her breath, she reassured the kelpie that she’d return to her with another meal in due time.


	5. Adherence

Ren paced as the kelpie consumed her helping of raw beef shanks. She’d had to settle for a much cheaper cut of meat, this time. The young woman couldn’t exactly make a habit of purchasing prime rib every single day.

The locals had already begun throwing rumors around -– that there was an odd girl in town, that the butcher said she’d bought far more meat than she could have possibly eaten alone, that the wolves were creeping in because of her. Ren knew that this meant her remaining time there would be short-lived. She doubted the residents would tolerate her presence much longer if they thought she was baiting wolves closer to populated areas.

The brook mare swished her tail, flicking her ears contentedly as she chowed down. The movement caused Ren to note the peculiar size and shape of said ears; they were short and angular, almost as if someone had lopped the ears off a small pony and stuck them onto a horse. Her thick, tangled mane and forelock nearly obscured them entirely at times.

“I think I’m going to have to skip town soon,” Ren said to the mare. “I’ll stay over at the inn one more night, and in the morning I’ll pick up some supplies and head back to Valedale. If you want to come with me, well…” She trailed off.

The mare hesitated and looked up at her. Her wide, clear eyes were fearful. There was a fair amount of blood staining her upper lip. It occurred to Ren how timid the kelpie was despite being an omnivorous fae.

“I can pick up a rope halter while I’m in town,” Ren continued. “Maybe I can pass you off as my horse on the roads? No one will hurt you, but you’ll have to play along.”

The mare’s odd little ears folded back. The horse clearly didn’t like the idea, but Ren could see the gears turning behind her eyes. She understood the practicality of it.

Another thing occurred to Ren; she’d be on the roads for a long while if she led the kelpie on foot. The very thought of riding a brook horse was a stupid one, she knew, but if she were to feed the mare ahead of time, and keep her away from large bodies of water, well…

Maybe.

The mare had since gone back to her food. The last of the meat cuts were fast disappearing, and soon the kelpie was licking at the leftover bits of blood that had seeped into the ground. She snorted into the dirt, disappointed that the meal was over, and trotted back over towards the modest stream she’d been using as a makeshift home. She paused upon reaching the bank, knowing that the water wasn’t even enough to submerge her. At its deepest, it only just reached her barrel.

Ren decided she was feeling brave.

“Hey, mare,” she said. “Humor me for a moment.”

The kelpie looked over her shoulder at the girl. Her expression was plaintive and long-suffering. _I’m already humoring you, you fool_ , she seemed to say.

Renata paced over to the gray. She stopped at her hindquarters, raising her right hand and making the sign of Aideen’s Sigil in the air over the mare’s flank.

The brook horse eyed her, glaring at the girl sidelong with something resembling sarcasm.

“I might have to ride you tomorrow, so I may as well practice now. And I’m not stupid enough to get on without taking precautionary measures.” Ren stood even with the mare’s withers; the kelpie was a short little thing, only about fifteen hands high or so. The Sigil alone probably wouldn’t save her, but it was better than nothing.

The girl grasped a handful of gnarled, damp mane with her left hand, and placed her right on the kelpie’s back. Other than twitching her hide slightly at Ren’s touch, the mare did not respond. She stared straight ahead, but kept one ear turned towards Renata. It was a good sign.

The bank, fortunately, was sloped so that Ren had a bit of high ground to hop off of. The girl said a prayer to Aideen under her breath, and then bounced twice before hauling herself aboard the mare’s back.

Ren settled herself. Nothing happened. The mare arched her neck around, turning to look back at her rider with one silvery eye.

Everything exploded into motion all at once. The brook mare leapt sideways, catlike and twisting, to land knee-deep in the waters of the stream. Renata tensed and curled against the mare’s neck, squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the fae to roll and crush her into the stones of the riverbed.

She anticipated the waters to be bracingly cold, but she felt nothing.

_Must be dead already_ , Ren thought. The mare was even more efficient than she’d given her credit for -– she hadn’t even had a vision to warn her, this time. _Points for making it quick and painless_.

The girl became aware of the fact that she could still hear the stream rushing past somewhere beneath her. She opened her eyes; she was still very much alive, though her fingers were twined in a death grip around fistfuls of the gray’s thick, shaggy mane.

Her breath came out in a huff -– she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it.

The kelpie raised her head, nostrils flared, her whinny pealing like laughter. She pawed at the the brook’s rushing waters, splashing small curtains of it up onto her belly and onto her rider.

Renata sat upright slowly, flinching at the freezing spray from the water drops that soaked her boots and breeches. The fae had a sense of humor, apparently, and the girl had very much been had.

“You… You! How horrid!” Ren exclaimed, wanting to swat at the kelpie’s neck in retaliation but thinking the better of it. “I can’t believe… Okay! Stop! Stop that! It’s cold!” She giggled in spite of herself -– perhaps out of hysterics rather than actual good humor -– and gestured for the mare to stop splashing her.

The kelpie ceased pawing at the current and trotted jauntily out of the water. Once she had all four hooves back on the bank, she shook herself off like a freshly bathed dog. The movement sent her long, knotted locks of mane flying, whipping Ren about the face. The cold lashes of hair stung furiously, and the girl figured she deserved this for her own stupidity.

“Okay! Aideen’s sake, I get it. I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. No riding. Let me dismount then,” Ren said, leaning forward and sliding off the mare’s back as soon as she’d finished her full-bodied shake. The fae’s hide still shivered for a moment after.

The girl gently placed her hand against the kelpie’s shoulder. Something was slowly occurring to her. The gray had, moments before, leapt with all four hooves off the ground, and just now, she had done the customary equine shake-off. In retrospect, both of those stunts should have been enough to unseat a rider with stirrups and a saddle, let alone one riding bareback.

Ren turned to look at the kelpie, whom had since quieted and was keeping a curious eye upon her. Minding to keep her touch as light as possible, the girl ran her hand over the gray’s back.

The hairs of the hide were neither sleek nor smooth, like that of a normal horse. There was a slight dragging catch to the texture despite the sheen of the fae’s coat. It was very subtle, but it made a difference -– enough of a difference to keep even an unbalanced rider aboard should the kelpie decide to carry them into, say, the depths of a hidden lake.

“Sorry,” Renata said, fascinated and more than a little bit spellbound. A single shed hair clung to one of her fingertips. She turned it between her thumb and forefinger, noting the strange way it changed with the light.

The pale-eyed mare watched her silently.

“Thanks for not killing me,” the young woman added. With the odd adhesiveness of the fae’s pelt, she found it puzzling that she’d been allowed to dismount so easily. “I deserved it, I suppose, but I’d hoped the meat I fed you would keep you for at least a little while.”

The fae pushed her muzzle against Ren’s shoulder. The girl smiled in spite of herself.

“I guess I’ll leave you be for today, then. We’ve got a long road ahead of us tomorrow, mare, and you’ll need your rest for it.”

Dissatisfied with her abruptness, the brook horse turned to block Ren from leaving. The girl tried to skirt around her, but again she was met with a gentle check from the gray’s shoulder.

“What?” Renata was at a loss. She was still very much unaccustomed to the fae’s quirks.

After grasping at her thoughts for a moment, she remembered that she usually left the mare with a promise before departing. Perhaps there was some secret magic behind her spoken word that she was yet unaware of -– some tangible tether created by the powers of the Moon that they shared. Or, perhaps the fae simply wanted the comfort of another’s presence. It made sense for a herdbound creature to become lonely.

“I promise I’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring you something to eat, by my word.” The girl sensed something as she spoke; a stir, like the shifting of the tides, not unlike the magic she felt when she scryed for visions.

There _was_ something behind a promise to a fae, then, Renata realized. It was deeply obscured, and she’d likely only noticed it this time because she’d been looking for it, but she picked up on it nonetheless.

The kelpie accepted her word and stepped aside readily for her to leave. As the girl departed back up the trail towards town, she felt the piercing gaze of the mare following her, lingering just out of sight. The sensation of being watched stayed with her long after she’d made it safely back to the inn.

That night, the girl dreamt of silver spirits darting beneath the looming green of old growth forest.


	6. Storm

The journey to Jorvik was supposed to be a fresh start for Aaron. A chance to escape; a chance to move forward despite his stifling life at home. He could no longer stand the brisk glances of disappointment from his mother, nor the tense coldness that seemed to silence his father every time he entered the room. So, when he finally got his acceptance letter in the mail from Jorvik’s Equine Institute, Aaron swiftly packed up his belongings and arranged for a one-way trip to the island without a second thought.

The flight to Jorvik was relatively uneventful -– after terse goodbyes from his parents, Aaron checked his luggage, waited through the line at security, and boarded the plane without incident. During takeoff, he watched the distant sunrise through the window and wondered what sort of life awaited him in Jorvik. If their equine programs were as quality as they were reputed to be, he figured, then the rest didn’t really matter, right?

Aaron had wanted a horse of his own ever since he saw one for the first time as a small child. His family had taken him to a local holiday parade, and one of the floats had been escorted by a horse wearing shining tack with a rider in a smartly matching outfit. The powerful creature carried itself and its rider with grace. Its steps were light and springy, and its dark eyes glinted with a wary intelligence. Aaron pestered his parents to let him go and get a closer look at the animal, but alas, being savvy adults, they were not about to let their young child go darting out into the middle of a crowded street.

Years later, Aaron’s parents agreed to let him take a few riding lessons at a stable in town every now and then. Money was tight, though, so he often had to exchange a few hours of barn chores in order to afford said lessons. Eventually, the burden of schoolwork and the pressure to find a part-time job that paid well left the boy with less and less time for his hobby. Giving up riding lessons altogether nearly broke his heart. He knew it to be for the best, however, and he threw himself into his studies in the hopes that someday he could pursue a career in the field.

Aaron’s stubborn determination certainly paid off -– his good marks were what landed him the acceptance to Jorvik City’s Equine Institute, after all.

He fussed with the arm of his seat a little, leaning against the window as he ruminated on the sequence of events that brought him here. Ice had begun to form around the window’s edges, signifying the altitude at which the plane was flying, even though they couldn’t have been airborne but an hour or so.

It was going to be a long flight. The lad decided he may as well pass the time unconscious, if possible.

Aaron let his thoughts wander and ebb into nothingness, closing his eyes and soon drifting off to sleep.

-

Jolting awake from a broken, restless slumber, Aaron realized that his flight was soon landing. He shuffled to straighten his hair and disheveled clothing. There were noticeable sleep lines on his arm from where the hem of his jacket had bunched and pressed against his skin -– the journey over the ocean to Jorvik had been lengthy, indeed. Sleeping against the hard window seat hadn’t done his neck any favors, either, and he tried to roll the lingering stiffness from his shoulders.

The drone of the engines whirred louder as the plane descended. Aaron drew his attention to the view beyond the ice-veined window. The isle of Jorvik sprawled beneath, its white coastlines and summery green forests contrasting with the endless blue of the surrounding waters.

His breath caught; he knew the island itself represented boundless opportunity for him. Nobody knew him here. Not only that, he was told he’d have a horse assigned to him for three whole months. It was a supervised care lease, essentially, but it was the next closest thing to owning a horse he’d ever experienced.

It had been so long since he’d even had riding lessons. He sighed, knowing he’d have a lot of catching up to do, and hoped that muscle memory would preserve his halfway-decent seat posture.

The plane touched down, parked, and allowed all passengers to exit routinely. Aaron waited his turn, leaning impatiently against the back of the seat as the other passengers crowded down the aisleway.

His subsequent trip through the Jorvegian airport was equally boring. After retrieving his baggage, there was little else to do other than shuffle off to the bus stop and hope he’d be able to find the route to Fort Pinta-Moorland easily. Fortunately, he did not have to wait long -– the bus to the Moorland region arrived, and Aaron clambered aboard, luggage in tow, and found a seat.

A loud-mouthed trio of girls his age plunked themselves into seats across the aisle from him. Aaron pretended to ignore the cursory, dismissive glances they gave him, and instead he stared tiredly out the window.

Soon, the bus left the station, and after that, left behind the city altogether. Paved alleyways and stony buildings were replaced by well-manicured pastures and quaint farmland. Aaron leaned closer still to the window, seeing countless horses grazing and playing out in the fields. Their coats shone; they tossed their manes to the wind as they cantered to and fro. The lad had come here expecting Jorvik to be a much more horse-oriented sort of place than he was accustomed to, but this was like something out of a childhood movie.

The voices of the girls in the seats across from him interrupted his awestruck observations of the countryside.

“Oh, geez, I know,” said the girl sitting furthest back, leaning forward in her seat to talk to the others. “I can’t believe she thought that color saddle pad would look good on a _chestnut_.”

“Her poor horse,” her friend chimed. “He’s gonna clash so badly, it’ll be tragic. He deserves so much better!”

All three of them snorted with disdainful laughter. Aaron sank into himself a bit, imagining how harshly they’d judge him if something so trivial as saddle pad color was a topic of gossip here. Fortunately, the obnoxious trio disembarked from the bus shortly after, apparently having had reached their stop.

The rest of the ride was blessedly quiet and the other passengers kept to themselves. Like him, most of them seemed to be headed to Moorland for the JCEI summer introductory program. This was especially confirmed when a number of them rose to get off at the Fort Pinta stop, as well. Aaron collected his bag from the stowing place beneath his bus seat and lugged it off down the steps. His boots hit the stone path on the side of the road, and the brisk smell of the ocean greeted him.

Looking around, he saw the city-fortress located across an arched, stone bridge. Even perched precariously as it was, high on a cliffside, there was still yet room for stables and paddocks adjacent to the yellowed, fortified walls.

He’d never seen anything like it. For a moment, he stood there dumbly, listening to the wind and the sea and the birds and the distant bustle of the city from across the bridgeway. He did not even notice the bus driving away behind him.

“Hey,” a gentle voice called him out of his reverie. Aaron turned, seeing a striking young woman smiling warmly at him. “Are you headed to Moorland, with us? I think we’re supposed to take this shuttle van.” She shouldered her bag, motioning towards an idling vehicle that had pulled over across the street. Her accent was cloyingly southern, even for an American.

She was right, though. Aaron was told a shuttle would take him from Fort Pinta to Moorland Stables, so that he wouldn’t have to walk, and the other people their age were already filing into the van and stowing their bags in the limited trunk space.

It took the lad a moment to find his voice.

“Um. Yeah. Thanks,” he said, knowing he probably sounded like an idiot. The girl smiled at him again, and Aaron had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from blushing.

“No problem,” she said. “You can sit next to me, if you want?”

He said nothing, and just nodded stupidly.

-

The ride in the shuttle was brief, but crowded, and everyone on board seemed tense with anticipation. Aaron supposed they were all wondering the same things; what did their boarding rooms look like? What kind of horse would they be assigned to care for for the summer? Were the lesson instructors kind, or strict?

The reputed Moorland Stables themselves soon came into view, and everyone filed excitedly out of the van almost before the vehicle had completely stopped. Aaron had barely just retrieved his luggage from the trunk before the other passengers crowded in, all vying for their belongings so they could rush off to sign in at the registry.

The polite, pretty girl from earlier hung back quietly, waiting for the others to clear out before retrieving her bag from the trunk storage. There appeared to be only one pack left after the other kids bustled off in a rush, and Aaron correctly assumed it to belong to the girl. He fetched it for her, handing it off to her as gracefully as he could muster. She brightened visibly.

“Why, thank you, sir,” she laughed a little. “It seems I’m not in as much of a hurry as everyone else today.”

Aaron tried to keep his voice steady; her smile made him feel shaky.

“I don’t blame them, really,” he said. “We all want to just sign in and see the horses, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I hope I get a Jorvik Warmblood! I’ve never even seen one in person before, but I’ve heard they’re great at just about any sport you put them to.”

The pair of them headed towards the wrought iron gates to the stableyard, talking as they went.

“Do you get to ride often?” Aaron asked.

“Not as much as I’d like. I’ve been taking lessons for a few years now, though. Someday I hope I’ll be good enough to be competitive. Cross country seems exciting, but I’m not that brave yet,” she smiled wryly.

The sounds of the stable grew louder as they neared -– a chorus of whickers, the scrabble-clak of shod hoofbeats on hard ground, mixed with the murmur of all the barn regulars conversing outside their horses’ stall doors.

They entered the facility through the main gate, passing by a haughty looking blonde leading a white horse out to the paddocks. Continuing on, they walked alongside a row of open stall windows, and were greeted by numerous equine faces peering over at them with pricked ears.

“Oh my lands,” the girl whispered. “I wish I could stop to pet them all, but I don’t think we’re allowed to do anything without checking in first.”

“They are very cute,” Aaron agreed. “I feel bad that I don’t have any treats on me.” 

The horse nearest to them, a gorgeous silver dapple black, arched his neck towards the girl and snorted curiously at her.

Aaron smiled in spite of his nerves. “Looks like you have a friend,” he noted.

“Aw, I’m sorry, big guy! I don’t have any snacks! I’m sorry!” The girl giggled apologetically, hurrying past the horse towards the sign-in booth across the yard. “I’ll bring something back for you after I’m checked in, okay?”

Strangely enough, the horse seemed to understand her, and he nickered back in response. A peculiar expression crossed the young woman’s face, but she blinked it away quickly before turning her back to the stall doors.

Aaron trailed along behind her the rest of the way to the registry area. They waited their turns -– when it was time for the girl to step up and fill out her papers, Aaron couldn’t help but overhear the barn manager’s greeting to her.

“Ah, Grace Duskwatcher, is it? Lovely to meet you. Have you been to Jorvik before? Your name seems familiar.”

“No, I haven’t,” Grace replied, fidgeting. “My dad was born here, though. I think he lived in Valedale for a time before moving off the island.”

“I see. Well, we’re glad to have you, Grace! Now, if you’ll just fill these out, and then sign here…”

Aaron tuned back out. He knew he’d get the introductory earful himself soon enough.

He was right. When he stepped up to the registry, he was instructed to sign a handful of waivers and the barn manager gave him the usual safety rundown that often accompanies working around large prey animals. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the woman glanced at her clipboard, and then asked for his name.

“Aaron Archer,” he said.

The barn manager furrowed her brow.

“It says here that we were expecting a Katarina Archer, but I’m sure it’s just a mistake. We have mix-ups all the time. People cancelling, people taking their slots at the last minute, you know. I’ll get that sorted out for you, my apologies…” she trailed off, scrawling an adjustment to the roster.

A familiar sense of dread settled in the lad’s gut. Aaron stared down at the ground blankly, trying his best to appear nonplussed. He knew this was likely the doing of his parents, not just a simple mistake, but he said nothing more on the matter. The barn manager crossed a few more things off the clipboard papers before directing Aaron towards the bunkhouse.

“The room furthest down on the left will be yours for the summer. My name is Jenna. If you need anything else, you can always come and ask me, okay?”

Aaron nodded, keeping his eyes averted and trying very hard not to think of how ill he suddenly felt.

“Good,” Jenna continued, carrying the conversation by herself. “After you get your belongings stowed away, I’d recommend changing into your riding gear. Everyone is meeting out in the courtyard in about half an hour to get assigned a horse. I’m sure you don’t want to miss that, right?”

“Nope, I’ll be there on time,” Aaron said. He attempted to keep his tone pleasant, although that was a feat considering how hard he’d been gritting his teeth. “Thanks for your help, Jenna.”

“No problem,” she replied, seeing him off towards the boarding rooms before waving forward the next person in line.

-

Once he made his way to his room, Aaron forcefully shut the door behind him. He flung his luggage to the well-worn woodgrain floors and leaned against the doorframe.

Internally, he berated himself. He was stupid if he thought none of his problems would follow him here. It wasn’t that, even -– he was disappointed in himself. The name had stung more than it usually did.

Exhaling loudly, Aaron forced himself to regain composure, and stood upright to look around his room.

It was cramped, understandably. There was a door opposite him, left slightly open to reveal a small adjacent bathroom. A twin sized bed occupied one corner, and a few chairs with a matching desk took up what little remaining space there was. The room had a single window to his immediate right; his first impulse was to draw the blinds closed. He hated the idea of people spying on him, especially since he had to change soon.

The meeting in the courtyard…! Aaron had almost forgotten why he was here in the first place -– he delved into his luggage to extract his breeches and riding boots. He got dressed in a flurry, hesitating only to tuck his shirt in and fasten his belt. The lad fetched his riding helmet last of all and bolted out the door in record time.


	7. Shade

The following morning was a disappointment, to say the least. The butcher refused to sell Renata anything -– not even cheap stew meat. The rumors had apparently gotten to him. Unfortunately, this left Ren without a solid meal for the kelpie. She figured she was going to be on the outs with the mare for this, for sure.

She’d left in a huff and headed for the nearest tack supply shop instead. She picked out a pale blue rope halter with a pretty braided noseband, as well as a matching lead; the set cost more than she would’ve liked, but the rope was soft and of quality make. While she was there, she also grabbed a durable mane and tail brush. The mare certainly needed it, what with the atrocious shape her tangled hair was in.

Ren’s final stop was at the cafe on the outskirts of town, where she acquired three sandwiches and four decadent pastries for meals and snacks along the road. She was down to a mere handful of shillings -– she supposed that, once she returned to Valedale, she’d have to ask Claire for her job back as the stable’s resident shit-shoveler.

By the time she snuck sheepishly out of town, the locals were starting to go about their daily routines, and most recognized her as someone who wasn’t up to any good. She avoided their accusing stares and was very glad to be leaving the area behind.

The kelpie mare seemed happy to greet her, at least. She appeared, sylph-like, from the water’s edge when Ren reached her corner of the woods.

“I don’t have any meat for you today, I’m sorry. They wouldn’t sell to me! They think I’m using it to lure wolves in.” The young woman attempted some damage control. She hoped the gray would accept the sandwiches as a light meal instead, and she fished one out of her bag before peeling the packaging back. 

The mare snorted as though scoffing at Renata’s offer. She approached the girl, nostrils flared, and snatched the sandwich right out of her hands. The meal was gone in several gnashing bites.

Unsatisfied, the gray pushed past Ren, and started rooting around in her pack.

“Hey! One of those was for me, for lunch. Well. Nevermind.” Renata sighed. The young woman wanted to rescue the halter and lead from her backpack so that the gear wouldn’t get chewed up by accident, but she decided it would just have to wait until the man-eating fae was done with her food. She didn’t dare reach her hands into the same bag as the mare’s formidably keen fangs.

The kelpie’s eyes widened and she withdrew something from the backpack. One of the pastries hung from her mouth, partially bitten into.

Prancing around with the confection in her mouth, the pale mare trotted to and fro. She tossed it into the air before catching it; it was gone in a single chomp.

“You have a sweet tooth?” Renata observed, inspecting the contents of her pack while there was still some distance between her and the fae. The gray had been kind enough to leave Ren one sandwich and a single pastry. Carefully, the young woman extracted the halter and lead from the pack, not bothering with the brushes just yet. She also plucked the last pastry from its wrapping, knowing that the kelpie was not going to like the halter one bit.

Ren held the snack out for the mare, waving it as though it were some kind of valuable prize. She showed the halter as well, so that the fae would not startle or feel tricked. The last thing she needed was to lose what little of the gray’s trust she’d managed to earn.

“Here, mare. I know you aren’t gonna be keen on this, but you have to at least try to look domesticated. The ratty-mane look isn’t helping us any.”

The fae stared her down. Clearly, the mare did not approve of the halter, but was torn by her want for the last of the pastries.

Eventually, the gray conceded, and stepped forward.

Renata tossed the treat towards the kelpie and sidestepped, moving as quickly as she could to loop the halter over the mare’s head. She tied it, fastening the headstall knot before the mare was even finished eating her snack.

“That’s not so terrible, is it? I bought the softest rope they had,” Ren said, trying to pacify the fae. The mare tossed her head and rubbed her face against her foreleg as though trying to scrape the halter off.

In the meantime, Renata retrieved the lead and attached it to the halter. She stood next to the kelpie, holding the leadrope and tugging it a little to catch the mare’s attention.

“I know, I know. I see that you hate it, but we have to get on the road. We have a long way to walk, especially if I can’t ride for any of it.”

The kelpie shook her mane out, conciliatory but unhappy about it. Ren shouldered her pack and sighed. It was going to be a long walk -– she could practically already feel her feet aching.

The pair of them left the secluded stream behind without a backwards glance, and set out onto the road towards Valedale.

-

Fortunately, they only encountered one other group of riders along the way. It was a trio of girls Ren’s age out on a hack with their warmbloods. Tightening her grip on the lead, Renata quietly warned the kelpie to behave as the strangers approached. All three riders paused, asking why Renata was walking the mare alongside the road.

“I just bought her. She’s very green. I don’t think ever she’s had a rider on her before,” Ren supplemented.

“Why not take the trailers?” One of the girls asked.

_I definitely didn’t take the trailers because I am definitely not trying to avoid drawing attention to this perfectly normal horse that is most certainly not magical or dangerous in any way_ , Renata thought. She shrugged, trying to spin a plausible story as she stalled to respond.

“I spent almost my last shilling on her. I can’t afford to have her hauled all over Jorvik,” she replied, continuing without prompt. “I bought her off some shady guy. With a wagon? He had a bunch of greenbroke horses, and they all looked underfed and dirty. I had to buy her and get her out of there, and now I’m trying to get her back to my home stable. I’m sure I got ripped off, but look at her. I couldn’t just leave her behind.”

The gray played along, pressing her head against Renata’s shoulder and looking as sad and pathetic as equinely possible.

“That’s awful,” one of the riders responded. “Do you know who the man was? Were the horses abused, you think?”

“I dunno,” Ren said. “Pretty sure he gave me a fake name. I’m going to call in a report when I get back home. You guys keep an eye out for him, okay?”

The riders nodded, clutching at their reins and patting their horses in sympathy. They decided to continue on their hack, apparently, because they cued their mounts into a walk.

“Thanks for the heads up,” the last rider said. “Good luck to you and… what is your horse’s name?”

“Shade,” Ren blurted. The other girl smiled at her.

“Good luck to you and Shade, then. Bye!” With that, the trio of riders trotted away down the road.

Once they were out of sight, Renata exhaled loudly.

“I’m glad they bought that. Come on, let’s keep moving.” The young woman tried to lead the kelpie forward, but the mare planted her feet.

Ren looked back at her, confused.

“You did fine, mare, they didn’t suspect anything weird about you, I don’t think. You put on a fine show. Very dramatic. I’m glad we played the pity card.”

The fae still stood her ground.

“Fine, _Shade_ , we have to get a move on if we want to see Vale before dark,” Renata said, sarcastic. The gray tossed her head.

“Is it something about the name? I can call you something different, I just had to come up with something on the spot and it suited you. Sorry.” The girl bowed slightly, hoping the show of respect would appease the fae.

The mare moved her little ears backwards, and then tipped them forward again. Her eerie pale eyes seemed quizzical.

“Look, I thought it suited you, like I said. I didn’t mean any insult by it. I meant it as in, a shade, a shadow, a ghost. A remnant of something that used to be. You’re the last of your herd, aren’t you? It seemed fitting.”

The kelpie nickered, making a sound akin to a woman chuckling under her breath. She dipped her head once, and then trotted forward, nearly dragging Ren off her feet.

“Shade it is, then,” Renata said, scrambling to keep her footing as she jogged down the road alongside the mare.

-

They reached Valedale just after sundown. Ren was leery about being about in the darkness with the kelpie mare, but her fears went unrealized.

She managed to sneak Shade through the championship grounds; she knew that keeping the fae in the stable with all of Valedale’s normal horses would be dangerous if not outright stupid. It was the off season, and any riders using the track for training had boarded up their horses for the night.

After successfully sneaking past the riding grounds, Renata headed for Avalon’s house. The girl tentatively led the gray through the woods behind the cottage. Several of the lights were on, and she eyed each of them with scrutiny as she and Shade darted from tree to tree on their way to Vale’s waterfall.

“All right, this is where I leave you for now. I’ll be back here to check on you tomorrow morning. I don’t need to bother telling you to keep a low profile, do I?” Renata untied the rope halter and pulled it from the kelpie’s head. The gray shook her mane in indignation -– it was clear she was happy to be free from the oppressive headstall -– before bounding to the water’s edge and slipping into the fall’s plunge pool.

Ren wasn’t sure if she couldn’t hear the impact of the fae hitting the water’s surface over the sound of the falls, or if the kelpie simply had not made any sound at all upon diving.

She turned to leave, glancing once-over the area again to make sure they’d not been followed. Taking care to appear nonchalant just in case, Ren twined the lead rope into a coil along with the halter, and stowed them both in her pack. Upon shouldering the bag, she left, sneaking back past Avalon’s cottage and making her way across the bridge towards town for the night.


	8. Northwind

Aaron ended up being early, but he wasn’t alone. The other riders there attending for the summer program had also gathered around the fringes of the courtyard. All of them watched with quiet anticipation as the Moorland regulars -– Jenna included -– pulled horses from their stalls and tied them to the hitching loops just outside.

All of the horses looked well-behaved and promising and had neatly plaited tails. Some of them even seemed bored, and they lipped at the ends of their lead ropes despite the small crowd of new people gathered around them. Most looked to be of warmblood type -– likely belonging to the breed the island was famous for. There were several large ponies, however, as well as one stocky draft cross that was napping on the end of his rope nearby.

Looking over the collection of horses, Aaron soon recognized the silver dapple that Grace had befriended earlier. The gelding was glancing around calmly, with alert ears and bright eyes. It was just occurring to him to scan the group for Grace herself when she stepped up beside him.

“How did you get here before me? I got my papers filled out before you did,” she asked.

Aaron shrugged at her.

“I was in a hurry, I guess. There wasn’t much else to do besides get dressed and show up here.”

“That’s true… Oh! Look, it’s the silver dapple from before!” She gazed over at the white-tailed gelding with pointed interest.

“I know,” Aaron replied, resisting a smile. “He seems like he’s looking for you.”

“He probably just remembers that I mentioned snacks, or something,” she said dismissively. “Aw, but look! He’s even prettier out here. He has matching markings on his legs! It’s so neat when horses have socks on all fours.”

“He is a striking one, that’s for sure. I hope he ends up being your assignment for the summer.”

“Oh goodness, me too. I’m not sure what the criteria is for matching horses to riders. Is it entirely skill level based, or do they factor personality in as well, d'you think?”

Aaron was about to respond, but he was interrupted by one of the barn regulars -– a young man about his age, maybe a little older -– and the group of summer JCEI attendees fell silent. He introduced himself as Justin Moorland, and proceeded to explain that once each rider was assigned a horse, their job was to groom and tack up their mount. Following that, everyone would have their gear checked over by one of the staff, and then the group was to proceed on a short hack around the facility single-file before returning to the courtyard. Individual and small group lessons were to begin tomorrow at scheduled intervals, after stable chores were divided up and completed.

Once he’d finished explaining, Jenna joined Justin’s side with a roll call list in hand. One by one, each rider was called forward and directed towards their allocated equine for the summer.

Jenna called Aaron forward relatively quickly -– his initials often meant he was posted near the top of alphabetical lists -– and named his assigned mount as a gelding named Northwind.

The lad glanced around, confused. He didn’t know any of the horses by name yet. Which one was Northwind?

A red-headed staff member -– wearing her designated Moorland shirt with Aideen’s harp embellished on it -– waved Aaron over and ushered him towards the stout draft cross he’d noticed earlier.

“So this is Northwind, huh?” Aaron ventured, eyeing the sleepy roan cautiously. Figures, he thought, that they’d give him a ‘safe’ horse, since his lessons probably only netted him minimal experience. Still, it wasn’t as if he were disappointed; far from it. The lad had perhaps overshot his expectations in wanting a Jorvik Warmblood for himself.

“Yep,” the redhead replied, before speaking almost too quickly to follow. “He’s half Jorvik Wild, if you can believe it. Crossed with Shire, or maybe North Swedish or something, I can’t remember. He prefers trail riding to arena work, but he listens well. He’s a good boy.” She handed Aaron a tote full of grooming supplies. “Do you know what to do with this, or should I walk you through it?”

“I’ve groomed a horse before, yeah,” Aaron said, retrieving a curry comb before setting the tote down beside Northwind. “I used to do barn chores and I’ve taken lessons. I know the basics.”

“Good, saves me the time explaining everything,” the girl said, sounding relieved. “I’m Maya, by the way. I’ll leave you to the grooming -– I’ve got to go help the other greenies -– but just holler if you need something.”

“All right,” he nodded, turning to start brushing his horse as the redhead hurried off.

Northwind barely even seemed to notice him. The gelding continued to doze as Aaron pushed dirt and shavings off him with various brushes. He began to feel sorry for the horse; he was obviously jaded and perhaps a bit overworked.

“Sorry, buddy,” Aaron said to him softly as he moved to retrieve the hoof pick. “I’ll try to take it easy on you. I won’t yank on the reins like a dumbass or anything, I promise.”

Northwind sighed loudly, as if in response, and shifted his weight to allow the lad to pick up his hooves. The horse’s feet were extremely heavy and significantly feathered -– Aaron had never worked with a draft horse before, even if Northwind was only half –- and he struggled somewhat to hold the large hooves steady as he scraped them clean. Thankfully, the gelding was nothing if not patient, and didn’t seem to mind.

Maya swooped by again as Aaron was returning the hoofpick to the grooming tote; she bore an english saddle and pad on one hip, and had a bridle slung over her shoulder.

“Here,” she offered. “This is Northwind’s tack. Saddle goes on first, then bridle. I’ll be back in just a moment to check the girth and adjust your stirrups for you if you need it.” Maya foisted the saddle and pad into Aaron’s arms and hung the bridle on a nearby hook.

He nodded an affirmation; that must have been good enough for Maya, because she turned and hurried off again towards another horse and rider. Aaron slung the saddle and pad together over Northwind’s back -– it was definitely the correct tack set, and it had been well used. The saddle fit the rotund gelding perfectly, having practically been molded to the shape of his back by then.

Aaron fit the girth loosely at first. He didn’t want to tighten it until right before he got on, in order to give the horse a chance to breathe out instead of puffing up his barrel. Idly, he counted the notches on the stirrups, adjusting them to the approximate length before reaching for the bridle.

Northwind took the bit without complaint and stood, unresponsive and still, as his assigned rider fitted the throatlatch and noseband.

Aaron was beginning to feel concerned. He’d seen plenty of burnt-out lesson horses in his day, but still. Was something wrong with Northwind?

When Maya returned to look over his tack, the lad couldn’t help asking.

“Is he okay? I mean, is something wrong with him? The horse seems half asleep.”

The redhead avoided eye contact, hiking the girth up several notches before tucking the straps back in.

“He’s always like this. He doesn’t care for arena work, like I said. He’ll perk up out on the trail. I’m sure of it.”

“Oh.” Aaron didn’t know what else to say. “All right. I was just making sure he was acting normally.”

“Yep. He’s fine,” Maya assured. “Everything looks good, nice job. Here. I’ll give you a leg up.” The girl planted her feet, lacing her fingers and making a sling with her hands. Aaron thanked her, letting her boost his left knee. He hopped twice, gripping the pommel of the saddle before springing lightly over Northwind’s back and finding his seat. He reached down, checking the stirrups and finding them to be adequate. He sat deeply, keeping his heels down, and picked up the reins.

He looked down at Maya.

“Am I all set?”

“Yep. You look good, I’m sure you two will get along just fine. I have to go help the rest of the group mount up. Stay right here until everyone else is ready, okay? We’ll give you the go ahead when we’re ready to move out.”

“Understood,” Aaron replied, looking over the rest of the group as he sat back comfortably in the saddle. His eyes found Grace -– she was beaming with delight, perched on the back of the silver dapple gelding. It was good, he thought, that she’d been assigned to the horse she’d wanted.

Grace must’ve felt his gaze, because she looked over at Aaron and smiled, giving him a thumbs up. He grinned back, nodding and returning the gesture.

Before long, the rest of the group had mounted up, and all appeared ready to venture out on their short hack. Jenna and Justin were aboard their respective horses as well -– Justin maneuvered his horse towards the gates to lead the hack, and Jenna walked hers around behind the crowd of riders to bring up the tail end.

It took a few moments for all the horses and riders to sort themselves out, but eventually they formed a somewhat orderly line behind Justin’s gray.

Aaron and Northwind found themselves near the front. The lad pressed his legs to the draft’s sides when it was time to move out, encouraging him to walk on behind the chestnut warmblood directly ahead of them.

Northwind ignored him completely, huffing and refusing to even shift his weight.

Aaron blushed furiously -– this was embarrassing. The riders behind him shuffled about, wondering what the holdup was.

The lad clucked loudly, digging his heels into Northwind’s sides. He was damned if a sleepy lesson horse was going to make an ass of him this early on. They were only going on a short trail loop; it wasn’t as if he were asking the horse to jump a meter-high wall.

Finally, the roan gelding responded, swishing his tail in annoyance before stepping forward and following the rest of the riders out along the road.

The draft plodded along the hack, barely picking up his hooves and all but forgetting his rider entirely. Aaron frowned, leaving the reins slack against the gelding’s neck. Of all the horses he could have been assigned for the summer, and he ended up with this one? He tried not to dwell on the negatives, but this was getting ridiculous. The lad sighed, running a hand through his hair, and instead tried to focus on the pretty Jorvegian landscape around him. At least he was in a saddle now instead of on a bus or an airplane.

The duration of the trail ride was mostly quiet -– the riders seemed content to enjoy the hills and forest around them rather than trying to turn in their saddles and talk to one another. Justin turned his gray horse uphill, leading the group along the road towards Silverglade. For a time, there was little else other than the swaying rhythm of swishing tails and the sounds of hooves against stone.

It was peaceful.

The wind picked up, carrying a wild, petrichor-like scent through the trees. Aaron sat up a little straighter, feeling a chill at his spine. Northwind seemed to sense something -– perhaps the air smelled off to him -– and went completely tense, lifting his head to stare into the distance.

Aaron shortened the reins a little, attempting to remind the draft gelding that he still had a rider on board.

The roan turned his head just so, allowing his rider a glimpse of his expression. The lad thought he was imagining it, but somehow, the gelding’s iris color suddenly flashed with a hint of bright blue.

Northwind bolted quickly, nearly dumping Aaron onto the road. The gelding broke away from the other riders, tearing up and away along the hillside towards Fort Pinta. His rider held on for dear life, neglecting to gather up the reins and instead opting to grab mane for support.

_Damn horse is faster than he looks_ , Aaron thought, trying to keep an even two-point as the draft cross galloped on. Someone was yelling somewhere behind him. He couldn’t afford to turn around to see who it was.

The lad attempted to slow his horse by circling him, reaching down for more rein now that he’d found some semblance of balance. Northwind abided, falling to a canter as he turned, and then to a trot as they circled a second time.

The gelding arched his neck, rolling his eye at his rider -- the color was definitely blue, now. How had Aaron missed that before?

Another rider approached them as they circled. It was Grace on her silver dapple; the warmblood’s white mane lolled in the wind as they cantered towards Aaron and his horse.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked, her expression distraught. “You just took off. Rocky tried to catch up to you, but–”

“Hey!” Another voice called. It was Justin, riding towards them on the gray. “You. Duskwatcher. Go back to the group. It’s not safe to run off like that, even if you’re trying to help.” His tone was stern, but not angry.

Grace nodded sheepishly, blushing and averting her eyes before turning her horse back down the hill. She cast a brief but concerned glance towards Aaron as she rode away.

“You’re Archer, right?” Justin asked. “Nice riding. I thought I was gonna have to chase you all the way to the abbey, but it looks like you’re back in control now.”

Northwind had slowed to a halt, and was breathing heavily from the gallop. Aaron stared blankly through the other rider. He was winded from the impromptu bolt across the hillside, but he was neither afraid nor shaken, and didn’t know what to say in response to Justin’s comments.

Maya wasn’t kidding when she’d said Northwind would liven up out on the trail.

“I don’t know what happened,” Aaron managed finally. “One minute he was just walking along, and then the next thing I knew, he was making a break for it.”

“This one’s not usually like that. Normally he’s as gentle as can be, but you know how horses are. Here, I’ll help you back. I don’t want risk him spooking again,” Justin said, moving his horse closer so he could reach over and take Northwind’s reins. The draft didn’t seem to mind, but he was definitely more awake now than he was before. His ears swiveled around; one of them fixed itself backwards, as though he were focusing on Aaron.

Justin led them back down the hill towards the group. All were milling about, staring at the two riders and murmuring amongst themselves about the poor fool who let his horse bolt on the first ride.

Normally, Aaron would have been self-conscious about being the center of attention, but instead, he simply felt pensive. Nothing about his trip to Jorvik was turning out the way he’d expected it to, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. 

The lad reached down to pat the draft on the shoulder. Misbehaving horse or no, at least he was getting to ride. If nothing else, Aaron figured, this summer was going to be an interesting one.


	9. Premonition

Renata sat astride her kelpie on a wind-battered beach. They were staring out to sea -- they both knew some terrible destiny awaited them somewhere far offshore, but they did not know how or why. The night was darkened by the storm, but Ren could still just see the young blonde woman riding beside her on a brilliant silver dapple warmblood. In her hands, the blonde held Aideen’s harp.

Ren wanted to ask how the other girl even came to obtain such an artifact, but the blonde rode on ahead of her, asking her gelding closer towards the water. The young woman began to hum a lilting, wordless tune -– Ren could hardly hear her over the wind -– and her delicate fingers coursed over the harp strings. Her mount’s hooves neared the surf; the white-maned gelding walked towards the choppy waters without an ounce of hesitation. The blonde began to strum the harp in earnest, its tune carrying eerily over the crash of the sea.

The silver dapple’s hoof touched the ocean’s surface. A light emitted from beneath him; he took another step, and another, picking up his pace until he was cantering across the water’s surface itself. The girl on his back kept playing Aideen’s harp, humming along all the while as her horse took off into a gallop across the stormy sea.

Renata heard a shout behind her. She turned just in time to see two familiar faces -– Drusi and Danger charged towards the ocean as well. The pair of them galloped along a grassy embankment for a brief moment before leaping; Danger’s wings unfurled, white-hot and blinding, and the two climbed into the pitch sky. 

“Ai-yaahh! Yaaah!” Drusi cried in elation over the winds. Ren could hear her from the ground.

Another voice joined the chorus -– male, this time -– and Renata turned to see a young man on a draft cross casting some sort of shielding spell a short ways away down the beach. The draft, a minimal roan, had an unnatural bluish aura about him. The dark-haired lad and his horse turned towards Ren and her kelpie, nodding in their direction as if giving some sort of military sendoff. Both horse and rider’s eyes glowed with an electrical spark.

They, too, took off across the surface of the waters after the blonde, using the warding spell as some sort of a buffer to stand upon.

“Woooohooohoo! Yeaaah!” The young man took up hollering as his draft galloped, sturdy as a war mount, to their destination.

Renata did not ask Shade forward. If anything, she was filled with a mounting sense of dread, and her instincts were telling her to move away from the ocean.

Her kelpie trotted forward, unbidden; Ren twined her hands into her mane with trepidation.

“What are you doing?” She hissed.

Shade answered her by breaking into a gallop, lunging knee high into the water and slicing through the surf with ease. She did not sink in enough to have to swim, or to soak her rider, even -– it was all thanks to the strange fey ability granted by her species, Ren surmised.

The two of them eventually caught up to the others, riding far out to sea in the darkness. The storm lashed the waves endlessly -- it wasn’t long before Renata found her clothes sopping wet anyways. She looked ahead, past the other three illuminated Riders and their horses, and noticed something horribly odd about the waves. They were roiling and blackened by the weather, as was the rest of the sea, but the movement was wrong.

Ren sat back, asking Shade to stop. The mare listened, seeing the same faults with the waves as her rider.

The blackish waters were oily and snake-like, almost, and well large enough to capsize a small boat. They were moving erratically, and seemed to originate from a common epicenter.

It was then, Renata realized, that they were not waves. They were massive, kraken-like tentacles, belonging to some leviathan beneath the surface.

The other Riders had no idea. They did not see the mortal peril they were charging towards.

“Wait!” Renata yelled to them. Shade whinnied shrilly, her voice rising like a terrified young woman crying out in anguish.

No one heard.

“Stop!” Ren cried to her friends. "You have to stop!“

–

_Stop…_!

Something hard hit Renata across the back. She rolled, shivering, before blinking herself awake; she was swathed in blankets, pressed against the cold hardwood floor of her lodging in Valedale. She sat up, bewildered for a moment before realizing that the sudden jolt had merely been caused by her falling out of bed.

Ren shuddered again -– it was damned cold -– and plucked her phone off the bedside table. She squinted at the unlock screen, trying to process what she was seeing despite being still half asleep. 

It was six twenty four in the morning.

She rubbed her eyes, pulled herself to her feet, and shambled over to her kitchenette. She started herself a cup of coffee before wandering over to go sit by the small space heater.

She did not even begin to know what to make of her dream, nor did she have any idea who the other two riders were. Clutching her phone, she made a mental note to text Drusi about it later.

Shivering, she looked about her room, figuring she may as well dress and go feed the horses for the morning. Normally, she was allowed to sleep in until about seven. Valedale’s stableyard, being fairly laid-back, usually began morning feeding rounds at around seven forty five. Ren guessed the horses wouldn’t mind an early breakfast for today, and there were always extra chores to be caught up on around the barn. Once the yard was taken care of, she could visit the town’s cafe, and pick up some sweets for Shade.

The mare had been doing fairly well for herself in the past week or so they’d been in Valedale. The local squirrel population seemed to be thinning out a bit, but that was to be expected with the introduction of a large predator.

Ren fetched her coffee, adding a bit of milk and sugar. She sipped at it, only setting it down to get dressed and ready herself for the morning.

Once she’d gotten herself reasonably presentable, she pushed the front door open, locked the door behind her and shuffled out into the cold. The barn was only a short walk away; it was located directly across the courtyard from the block of lodging rooms where Ren had rented a place to stay.

Renata stuffed her hands into her coat pockets in an attempt to spare them from the morning chill. As she was walking, someone called her name from behind her. She turned, seeing Elizabeth waving to her as she approached.

"Renata.” The druid’s voice was somehow even colder than the air around them. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

Ren stared at her, baffled and affronted.

“I can’t. I’m on morning feeding rounds,” she replied, attempting to brush Elizabeth off.

“I’ve already texted Claire. She agreed to find someone else to cover your shift. Now, come with me.”

Ren realized that Elizabeth wasn’t asking; she didn’t have the option to refuse her. The druid took her by the elbow, steering her away from the barn and up towards her cottage on the hill.


	10. Blink

Drusi sat back into a half-halt, forcing Danger to pay attention and collect himself. The stallion was springy and lithe in his movements that particular afternoon; he was also obnoxiously second-guessing Drusi's every other command.

The young woman shortened her reins a little, assessing how many strides her horse would need until their next jump. The pair of them had the outdoor arena all to themselves -- a rare thing at the Vineyard, especially in the summertime. Drusi had finished with chores and training the Baroness' horses for the day, and once she'd seen that the arena was unoccupied, she'd rushed back into the barn to tack up her own horse.

Danger's stride quickened when he saw the approaching oxer. Drusi anticipated this, and checked him a little. She was still counting under her breath.

_One, two, three, four, and up_ \-- the stallion cleared the rails with breathless ease. Drusi asked for a lead change, and got it with surprisingly little hassle. They turned up the quarter line towards the next jump. Danger quickened his pace again.

_Stop trying to cut the corners, you idiot_ , Drusi thought. The warmblood turned an ear towards her, yielding to the heel she'd dug into his barrel to remind him.

The next jump was a parallel; it wasn't a particularly large gap, and Danger had cleared plenty of parallels before, but Drusi still demanded precision.

She counted strides again. _One, two_ \-- Danger braced his mouth against the bit, and rushed -- the warmblood took off after the third stride, instead of the fourth. Drusi would have cursed, but they were airborne, and she was desperately trying to steady her two point. The stallion had overjumped by a ridiculous margin.

Drusi found herself staring through her horse's ears. The ground seemed to hang beneath them in distant periphery for entirely too long -- and then, all of a sudden, everything went horribly, blindingly pink.

-

Linda leafed through the latest edition of _Canter Ella_. The summer had fallen lazily over Jorvik, and a slight breeze tousled the hairs that had loosened from her unkempt ponytail.

It was rare that she had any moments to herself, these days, and she savored them. Her dearest Meteor grazed beside her, swishing his graying tail to ward away flies.

She shifted her weight; she was perched atop a picnic table beside the large outdoor arena at the Vineyard. A single rider was practicing jumps -- rather skillfully, Linda noted -- around and around the ring. She recognized the rider as one of the new hires the Baroness had added to help train her many show horses. Chanda usually did not take much notice of the daily goings-on of barn hires at the Manor, outside of adding them to the staff rosters for the Baroness herself to remember and giving the occasional tour around the yard. This rider, however, had piqued her interest; Linda was not certain why this was, but if she'd learned anything as the appointed Guardian Rider of the Moon, it was that she should always trust her instincts.

The girl and her black-chestnut warmblood cantered up the quarter line towards a parallel oxer. Linda peered over her comic to watch in earnest, and inhaled sharply -- she'd glanced up just in time to see the stallion falter and rush the jump. Meteor's head went up beside her, muzzle stained green and mouth still full of grass.

Linda held her breath -- the stallion overjumped enough to save both himself and his rider, but something was wrong.

Meteor sensed it as well. He stood stock still, not even daring to chew the greens hanging from his mouth.

The air wavered in front of the dark chestnut stallion, and then split itself asunder.

A familiar shade of pink shone forth, and the horse and rider in the ring disappeared into the jagged portal.

_Pandoria? Here? How in that cursed hell..._! Linda thought to her horse; she had already discarded her reading material -- how trivial, it suddenly seemed -- and was sprinting towards the railing of the arena. Meteor did not bother replying. He was matching her stride, whinnying in alarm as they reached the gate.

The rift blinked itself closed by the time Chanda had time to open the latch. She hesitated. Were they gone?

She exchanged a brief glance with Meteor before swinging the gate open for them both.

The hinges creaked, and by the time they'd set foot into the dirt of the ring, the portal had torn open again.

-

Drusi was flying. She balanced on Danger's back, weightless and ethereal. Her horse had wings of white fire -- they swept out from his shoulders, and the leaping flames did not harm her.

Everything was nauseatingly pink, but they were flying. The pit of her stomach was in her throat and she was free and they were home.

Gravity seemed like a distant memory; that was, until the alien landscape unfurled itself, and then they were back in the Vineyard's outdoor arena. Inexplicably, they were on the other side of the ring entirely.

Danger stopped hard as soon as his hooves hit the dirt. Drusi was not prepared in the slightest -- the reins slipped gracelessly out of her hands as she continued the momentum of the jump by herself. She flew clean over her mount's withers, past his sun-touched mane, and struck the ground hard.

Danger snorted, backpedaling and showing the whites of his eyes.

Drusi tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. The wind had been knocked out of her. She'd had far worse falls and far worse injuries in the past; she'd be bruised and sore, but nothing was broken, as far as she could tell.

She sprawled flat on her back in the dirt, noticing that someone else was in the arena and was running towards her.

_Good_ , she thought, struggling to breathe. At least somebody would be there to catch her horse.

She attempted to comprehend what had just happened as she recovered. Danger seemed to be all right, at the very least. He was clearly shaken, as she was, but physically he appeared sound.

_Are you okay?_

_Are you okay?_

_What was that?_

Drusi's thoughts echoed upon themselves until she realized that, not only was she thinking, but there was something answering her.

_Danger?_

The stallion lowered his head, still shuddering uncontrollably. His hide was drenched in lather.

_It's okay?_

_It is okay. We are alive. And we can fly._


	11. Chamomile

"You brought a _kelpie_ into Valedale. Do you have any idea how many innocents you've endangered?" Elizabeth scowled. The druid loomed over the woodworn table in her small, cluttered kitchen -- Renata sat opposite her, steeping the tea she'd been offered as a paltry platitude for agreeing to enter the woman's house. "The others will be here shortly. And then... then we'll decide what to do about this."

The druid was fuming, plainly, and Ren wasn't sure if she should trust the tea. Not that Elizabeth would poison her lethally, but still. The woman was damned pissed.

Idly, Ren swilled her tea a bit as they waited, scrying into the cup. She watched how the ripples disturbed the reflection's surface. For the briefest instant, she saw the shape of the Úr rune in the undulations of the liquid. She decided that it was safe to drink. 

Renata was sipping at the tea, cooly ignoring Elizabeth's livid pacing, when Avalon and another woman she didn't recognize entered the cottage. She set the cup down. It was a shame she wouldn't get to finish her tea -- it had turned out to be soothing and delicious -- but she was preparing to defend herself and Shade against the three other druids. 

"So, you're the one who brought in the kelpie?" The unfamiliar woman sized Renata up from across the kitchen. 

"Yes, she is," Elizabeth interjected. 

"How can you be sure it was me? I think you're mistaken," Renata said. She'd been mostly silent the entire morning, and refused to admit to anything.

"Don't play coy, Renata," Elizabeth said. "Avalon says he saw you bringing food down to the Silversong. He followed you the other evening. He saw the bækhest -- the kelpie -- with his own two eyes. And he saw _you_ feeding it."

Renata's gaze lit upon the hooded druid across from her. He nodded solemnly, both confirming Elizabeth's words, and admitting that he'd been the one to rat her out. 

Ren sighed. There was no longer any chance for her to lie her way out of this. 

"If you cannot get the kelpie to leave the area peacefully, then we will take care of it ourselves," Avalon spoke up.

Renata's temper snapped, all of a sudden. The direct threat to Shade made her blood roil; she was on her feet in an instant, shoving away from the table and nearly knocking her chair over behind her. 

"I'd dare you to try," she hissed. "The mare hasn't hurt anyone. You can't punish her just for existing here!"

"It hasn't hurt anyone _yet_ ," Elizabeth replied, her tone brittle. 

The air in the room had gone tense with Renata's outburst. The unfamiliar woman had her hand on the lariat at her hip, and Ren noted the whiteness of her knuckles. 

"Elizabeth. You mentioned she was of the Moon Circle, right? And that she didn't have a soul horse?" The woman kept her grip on the rope, but was clearly trying to diffuse the confrontation. She turned to Ren. "Renata. Have you bonded with this kelpie?"

The woman had worded the question very carefully; it immediately made Renata suspicious.

"No. I don't know. I don't think so?" 

"You seem to be awfully protective of her." The woman relaxed her stance a little, striding over to Ren and offering her hand. "I'm Rhiannon, by the way. Matching riders to special horses is a... is somewhat of a hobby of mine. This kelpie seems to be important to you, or else you wouldn't have brought her to Valedale. Is this assumption correct?"

Renata looked down at Rhiannon's hand for a moment before shaking it reluctantly.

"Yes, you're right. I found her all by herself. She's... she's alone, and I have a feeling she isn't supposed to be. I don't know where her herd is. I doubt they're still around, given where I found her. If I had've left her there, she might've starved, or gotten herself killed."

The druids all exchanged glances; it was as though none of them were certain of how much they should let on about the extenuating circumstances. 

Rhiannon broke the awkward silence.

"Bring her up to the training paddock on the hillside in three days time. Show up at dawn. And please, for the love of Aideen, feed her first." Rhiannon gave Renata a hard stare, but then stood aside, indicating that the girl was to leave the cottage. 

Elizabeth stammered, not wanting to let Renata off the hook so easily, but the young woman knew an out when she saw one. She brushed past the druids and left the crowded kitchen without another word. 

After retrieving her coat, Ren pushed the front door open. Despite the fact that she already anticipated the bite of the Jorvegian morning air, she still could not help but shiver as she pulled her jacket on. 

She passed a fuzzy, flaxen draft mare on her way out of the cottage. She assumed the mare belonged to Rhiannon -- she'd never seen Avalon bother to ride the short distance from his house to Elizabeth's. 

Ren paused to study the draft for a moment. The mare had a strange blaze marking in the shape of a lightning bolt, and her eyes were keen and shining. 

Her gaze did not leave the Silversong. 

She continued to ignore Ren even as the girl turned to walk away, opting to keep facing the waterbank. 

Renata shrugged, turning her coat collar up against the chill and figuring the mare had a right to be as paranoid as she pleased. 

The young woman broke into a jog as she neared the hub of the town. She had to warn Shade, after all, and the kelpie was also overdue for some sweets. Hurrying towards the local cafe, she prayed to Aideen that the druids wouldn't decide to do anything rash before she was able to reunite with her fae again.


	12. Spark

The riding lesson dragged on, and Aaron gradually lost more and more interest in the tasks at hand. Northwind was already bored. Keeping the draft cross on the rail, let alone at a trot instead of a sluggish walk, was more than enough of a challenge.

Even Grace seemed to be having trouble today; her silver dapple warmblood, Rocky, kept breaking gait, and her hands kept fumbling at shortening the reins again and again and again. 

Aaron was in the process of asking their instructor if they could turn the lesson in early when he was interrupted by a series of shouts coming from the main courtyard. He and Northwind turned just in time to see a tall black horse come flying out past the gates at a gallop; its rider, clad in odd reddish-black robes, clutched at some sort of document. Papers fluttered in their wake like fallen leaves.

Thomas Moorland himself stumbled out of the gate just behind the strange, dark rider. He was desperately grabbing at the discarded papers, and his usually-equable countenance was more frightened and distressed than Aaron had ever seen it. 

"Stop! Stop that rider! Someone, help!" Thomas shouted, pointing frantically in the direction of the black horse.

Aaron looked at Grace; their eyes met in an instant. They didn't need to be told twice, and neither did their horses.

They sprang into action, with Northwind whirling and breezing through the open gate of the arena. Aaron stole a glance over his shoulder and saw Rocky effortlessly clear the top rail of the fencing. Grace appeared to be grabbing mane and just barely held on, but she landed safely nonetheless.

The duo pursued the mysterious rider up the trail towards the blacksmith, with the roan closer to the thief and the silver dapple following just behind. 

It took Aaron a moment to realize that the dark horse's hooves weren't throwing sand, dust, nor dirt, but smoke. His breath caught -- the horse was running so fast, it was trailing _smoke_. How could he ever hope to catch up?

The lad pressed his heels to Northwind's sides anyway, figuring they should at least give it their all. The roan understood, snorting loudly into the wind, and stretched into a full gallop.

Rocky and Grace trailed behind, doing their best to weave trees and keep footing on the overgrown pathway. Northwind was coursing with all he had, his heavy hoofbeats drumming even over the whoosh of wind in Aaron's ears. 

They were beginning to lose the dark rider. Aaron's heart sank when he realized that his horse simply could not match the thief; they were going to get away with their crime, scot-free.

The lad growled aloud in frustration. He closed his fingers around the reins, meaning to turn his horse and slow him before he lamed himself running too hard, but Northwind ignored the cue. The roan's mouth hardened against the bit, and he kept galloping stubbornly after the dark horse.

Aaron's lungs were filled with the scent of scorched soil. Northwind crow-hopped, but the lad did not lose his balance. A jolt went through the pair of them; it was vaguely similar to the sensation of brushing against a live wire fence. 

The roan's mane writhed and twisted with static, the hairs turning to glow electric blue right before Aaron's eyes. Northwind's legs snapped up ever faster as he ran, and his rider began to realize that they were finally gaining on the thief. 

By the time they had passed the smithy, Northwind was galloping even with the dark horse. Aaron, feeling emboldened by the adrenaline rush, reached over towards the robed rider and snatched the crumpled document clean out of their hand. The thief reeled -- they apparently did not expect to be caught, let alone by a horse with a glowing mane. The hooded rider swerved their dark horse sharply away from the roan and tore up the hill towards the castle.

Aaron didn't care; the stolen papers were securely in his grasp. He attempted to slow Northwind again, and this time, the draft cross heeded him. They circled to a trot along the road to Silverglade, and both the glow and the static faded from the roan's mane. 

Grace caught up to them, pulling Rocky to a halt just beside Northwind. 

"My lands, are you guys all right!?" Grace exclaimed, breathless from the chase. "Northwind, he... his hair was like lightning! And what's the matter with your eyes?"

"My eyes? What's wrong with 'em?" Aaron blinked a few times, brushing his free hand up to rub at his eyelids. He wasn't in any pain at all.

Grace's expression seemed slightly disturbed; she shifted around in the saddle a bit. 

"I don't know. Maybe I was just imagining it. But you and Northwind are okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine," Aaron said, brandishing the retrieved document. "I got the papers back. Come on, we should probably return these to Thomas before that creep comes back for us."

"Good idea," Grace responded. The pair of them turned their horses and headed back to the Moorland yard. Wisely, they opted not to inform anyone of the strangeness surrounding the entire incident. Thomas, oblivious even to the magic that the dark rider displayed, was grateful to have the valuable papers returned to him.


	13. Callings

Renata nearly tripped over herself in her haste to reach the quiet spot near the Silversong's waterfall. She fumbled with the box of cafe food she'd purchased as she went, eventually fishing out a flaky palmier and stuffing it into her mouth. Unfortunately, she found herself in too much of a hurry to properly enjoy the warm, sugary crust. It was meager as far as breakfast went, but it was better than nothing.

The young woman skidded down towards the water, her boots sliding and leaving smudges in the mud bank. She pushed through the strands of bulrush grasses and glanced around for any signs that she'd been followed. All seemed clear; she was alone on the gravelbank, feeling rather separated from the rest of the world by the wall of cattails and reeds. She turned to walk alongside the rushing river. The mare would show herself when she decided to -- she always did things on her own time -- and Ren was content just to enjoy the peaceful ambiance of the waterside as she ambled her way towards the falls. 

_Ah, wonderful! We were in the mood for more sweets._

Renata stopped dead in her tracks. She recognized the pleasant timbre of the thoughts -- she'd heard it in her dreams countless times. It was a familiar presence in her mind, and she welcomed it with all her heart.

She turned slowly, knowing the gray would be looming right behind her. The kelpie stood still and silent on the gravel, her mane ever damp and drizzling, and fixed the girl with a stare as lucid as the Silversong. Some tacit sort of magic seemed to pass between them. 

_Oh? Can you finally understand us? It is about time._ Shade laughed, the sound trickling lightly from her muzzle. _We are glad you decided to come down here and bring a snack, instead of spending all your morning with those spiral-walkers._

"The what?" Ren found her voice, opting to answer the mare out loud. That the fae spoke in plurals threw her off a bit, but after a moment of contemplation, the girl realized it made more sense than it ought to. 

_We do not know what you call them. They Who Walk In Spirals. The People of the Runed Stones. They keep Aideen's counsel, and follow Her light. If anyone can help you with our Circle's magicks, it is they._

"Oh. The druids? Yes. Technically, I've been one of them, I think. Although I'm starting to suspect that that's just been an excuse for Elizabeth to keep her eye on me this entire time." She unwrapped the box of pastries, and held it open for the fae to rifle through. "I was worried about you. They've been watching you, you know."

_We know. We suspected if they meant harm, they would have acted by now. They know how to dispel our kind._

Renata simply looked at her. 

"It would seem you're familiar with the faction."

_The spiral-walkers have been here for a long time. Our court had their own encounters with them, once._ Shade quieted as she nibbled thoughtfully on an eclair. _Sire once said that, long ago, we used to serve alongside some of them, carrying them into battle in Aideen's name._

"Really?" This was certainly news to Renata, although the druids had been very tight-lipped about what they'd taught her so far.

_So it seems. Evidently, this fell out of favor. Humans started to label us as dangerous and untrustworthy compared to their star-blessed horses -- and we are. Especially when we feel we have been scorned._

Ren said nothing, but gave the kelpie a wry smile.

The gray swished her tail in response, plucking the last of the pastries from the box and devouring it in several chomps.

_It became a self-fulfilling sort of affair, as I'm sure you can imagine._

"I can," said Ren. She paused, knowing she would have to frame her next request carefully. "One of them wants to meet you. One of the druids, I mean."

She had Shade's full attention, now. The young woman bowed gently, going out of her way to curtsy a little with the edge of her jacket. 

She continued. "Will you come with me to see her? We would meet up on the hill out of town. Out of sight. At dawn, in three days time."

_Will you promise to keep us safe?_ The kelpie's silver eyes were level with hers.

Renata sensed the magic curling around the unspoken words on her tongue, waiting to bind her in agreement.

"I promise." 

The fae sighed softly. Her breath smelled sickly sweet; it had a coppery, cold edge to it, and carried a subtle undertone resembling petrichor and algae bloom. The scent was so starkly un-equine that Renata nearly took a step backwards out of instinct, but she kept herself still, not wanting to cause insult. Closing her eyes in a show of trust, the girl calmly sighed back at the fae in response. 

Ren's phone rang just then, utterly ruining the serenity of the moment. The gray mare shied away from the sound, her fangs bared and her pupils pinned with alarm. Renata dropped the empty pastry box without fanfare and fumbled her phone from the pocket of her coat. She answered it without looking at the caller's ID.

"Yeah?" Ren's heart fluttered faintly. Her faerie mare pranced in place on the riverbank nearby, making chewing motions with her mouth in an attempt to self-soothe.

"Renata! Hey!" It was a voice Ren hadn't heard in awhile.

"Drusi." She cast a sidelong glance at Shade. The mare was still curling her lip in distress and wringing her tail all about.

"Renata! I'm sorry to bother you this early, I know you have work. You're still up in Vale, right?"

"Mhm. Why?" 

"Something happened, yesterday, with Danger. I was told I have to go talk to someone in Valedale named Elizabeth? Do you know her?" 

Elizabeth was the last person Renata wanted to have to speak with again today, but nonetheless, she was suddenly concerned about her friend.

"What do you mean, something happened? Are you okay? Is Danger okay?" Ren thought of the first vision she'd ever had; the flash of fiery wings and a saturated otherworld she'd glimpsed when she'd laid hands on the stallion last summer. The memory seemed so distant -- that was even before he'd been Drusi's horse. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel glad that Drusi had taken her advice to switch mounts, or if she had uninentionally set them both onto a path of dangerous magicks. Guilt and fear welled in her throat for the span of a brief heartbeat.

"Yes, physically. We're fine. I can explain more later," Drusi said, her tone quieting on the other end of the line. "It all seems crazy. It seems like it could not have been real, but it was."

Renata looked at Shade again and exhaled with relief. "I know the feeling. But yeah, I know Elizabeth. I'll come with you. I mean, you'll probably want company when you go to meet her. She can be a little bit intense."

"Linda's coming with me, but I'd be glad to have you with us, too." There was another pause. "Thank you, Renata. I had a feeling you would understand."

"Don't mention it," Ren replied. She'd never met Linda in person, but she knew her as someone Avalon had mentioned fondly. Apparently, she was a fellow Moon Circle rider like herself. It would be interesting to finally see her face to face.

"Well, I will leave you to it. I have to go pack up and get Danger ready for the ride over," said Drusi. "Thanks again, Renata. See you in a bit."

"Yeah. See you in a bit," Ren echoed, hanging up. 

_What happened?_ Shade asked, suddenly near enough to arch her neck over the girl's shoulder.

"I'm not sure... but I think it might've been my fault." Ren stared blankly at the darkened screen of her phone. 

_We doubt that very much,_ Shade said. There was something resembling softness behind the usual cold gray of her eyes.

Renata wasn't sure how to respond to that, so instead, the pair stood together in silence. Eventually, the fae seemed to grow bored, and she shook water droplets all over the young woman beside her. Ren gave her a cheeky smile before waving the mare away.

"Go on, then," the girl said. "I'll come back tonight with something else for you to eat." 

_We will be waiting,_ the gray mare said, and then she disappeared into the mist of the Silversong's waterfall.


End file.
